The Risk In Wanting
by Oly Chic
Summary: Now established on Earth, the next step is syncing the Earth warfront efforts to strengthen other fronts. For Jazz and Prowl, this means there's less shared privacy for squeezing intimate needs, physical and emotional. They realize they need those moments, though, for sanity and comfort, because frankly they're both walking along the edge of (in)stability. (Sequel & Stand-Alone)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

 _Disclaimer: I don't own any Transformer franchises._  
 _G1 with bits of IDW, Bayverse, and War For Cybertron (WFC)._

 _I expect chapters to be shorter overall thru the story, but this chapter ended up a lot longer._

 _This is written for both new readers and those who read "Emotions". Inside this story contains "Emotions" recaps and a 7 mega-orn gap between fics. Events during the gap will be replayed through flashbacks, like when Prowl's tac-set was restarted. I'm saving that for what I consider delicious reasons._

 _An explanation of changes between "Emotions" & "Risk" (e.g. POV frame change) can be found in my user profile, to keep this A/N less cluttered. Same goes with definitions, like emotion filters._

 _IMPORTANT final note: If you don't understand what the AI says in this chapter, don't worry; it's largely just demonstrating a starting point for the AI's thinking & communicating. That'll change as a war-centered tactical AI named Barricade becomes something a bit more cannon-like._

* * *

Not many off-duty actions riled Jazz's gears, but Ironhide was making a habit of repeating one such activity over and over. Worse was Jazz couldn't say or do anything about it, despite a hot need to do so _right_ now. Berating a mech for daring to spend time in his own quarters wasn't exactly sane or reasonable, and no amount of application of Jazz's considerable skills in misdirection would hide that fact. Nor could he give a reason or lie for why _he_ needed Ironhide to be anywhere else without coming across as petulant and probably a bit shifty.

His true reason was that Ironhide's quarters were sandwiched between his and Prowl's quarters, but that little factoid was an obstacle he easily overcame until almost 2 mega-orns ago. There weren't any new physical restrictions blocking the slinky Ops mech as he moved through the officers' emergency-only exit tunnel, tucked indiscreetly behind all officer quarters. Unrestrained movement wasn't the hard-stop issue, but rather the sudden inability to sneak _silently_ as he passed behind the wall shared by tunnel and Hide's quarters. If Ironhide would just stop sleeping, entertaining, or engaging in whatever personal hobbies that had warrior-sharpened hearing within range, Jazz wouldn't have cared. As it was now he was forced to care, and Jazz was convinced that Hide's hobbies included following unseen forces guiding him to unwittingly become an effective road-block for the saboteur.

For the most part, when on-base during the past 2 mega-orns, he repeatedly resigned himself to only having one of his few methods for enjoying time with his label-free companion: the private alone time available by fake training sessions behind locked officers-only doors. For Jazz that one avenue sufficed plenty in the beginning, as being the _only_ option during the first half of the 7 mega-orns since starting their undefined relationship. Just after crossing that halfway threshold two positive changes occurred, followed by two very negative changes barely a few deca-orns later, bringing back trace memories and yearnings of a loss Jazz had forgotten.

Those positive changes and new options came about when Prowl finally passed the period of heightened medical attention on his health. When Prowl no longer required active out-patient monitoring by his brothers and medics his arguments made short work of any attempts to still continue. Prowl never elaborated much about the contents of such arguments, beyond the persistence of Bluestreak wanting to still recharge with Prowl. That admission came only after Bluestreak nearly caught them because the young mech had another nightmare about Prowl's near-death and made an impromptu visit to his brotherly cousin's quarters.

Sharp and sudden increases in outside noises snatched his attention, resulting in a glare directed at the wall separating Hide's and his quarters. Despite the soundproofing he detected Ironhide's laughter being joined by Ratchet's, courtesy of his agitated state and sophisticated audial systems. Ratchet was another one of his occasional road-blockers, but one he and Prowl mostly got around by convincing him anything suspicious on the spark sensor readouts was from rigorous "training."

Dizziness swept Jazz's system and his tired frame started swaying again. His processor ache was getting worse, and now seemingly radiating the pain through his spinal strut. All he wanted was to recharge and recover but such hopes were for not, while alone and in a hyper-vigilant mindset. If he knew he could slip undetected to Prowl's quarters via that tunnel or the hallways without practically seizing up from Red-worthy paranoia he'd have done so, but between witnesses and Red Alert's cameras, everything ultimately came up as a no-go option.

It was all rather twisted as if to mock him; Jazz was too wound in a dangerous Special Ops way to make his way somehow to Prowl's or trust a commlink request, and the only way Jazz could safely unwind was to recharge with Prowl. A mere handful of joors ago he returned from what was supposed to be a 6-orn training course with several of his Earth- and non-Earth-stationed agents, in northern Canada. They weren't even a quarter of the way through when they stumbled across a Decepticon reconnaissance taskforce. Help wasn't an option for many reasons, forcing him, his Earth team, and Earth-ignorant agents into playing a dangerous secrecy game.

Jazz wrenched his mind to away from the details, having finally finished obsessing and listing all those reasons and observations in a lengthy report. He'd be going over it all in an officer meeting soon enough. Instead he changed his attention to focus on calmer realities and slowing down non-critical systems with repeat override codes. His off-word agents were safely dispatched to Special Op check-in points and Blaster was monitoring their travels; his Earth agents were finally calmed down as much as their personalities allowed, and he managed to fake a passable state during First Aid's check with only an exhaustion and tension warning. He retired to his quarters as promised, but not much else.

These were the times Jazz most missed what a partner or co-habiting mech could offer: security. Alas, besides it being unseemly for the TIC to have a roomie, his role as Head of Special Ops made it impossible to share. The ratio of dangerous items to normal ones in his quarters heavily favored danger, and most of those were disguised as normal items. A glance to his desk and entertainment table suggested he had more stylus pens than Prowl, but in reality only two could be used for their apparent use.

There was also his love for dancing, singing, and other loud activities. To have a roomie he'd need to find someone of near-equal rank, educated on safety within a living space of a Special Ops mechs, know how to diffuse any triggered reactions or nightmares, and generally enjoy the same things when as him when he wasn't in XOps-mode. Without that match or close enough near-compatible, his systems, sophisticated devices, and grids were his roommates. They could secure a room tight, were coded to identify hidden weapons, could be forced to improve or ignore his entertainment activities, and while they couldn't help him work through a trigger he could at least replace them should he inadvertently destroy them.

He assumed no better option would present itself once he became TIC. Something akin to an option made itself acutely known when he and Prowl finally were able to recharge in his quarters without any interference or distractions. The first time they recharged together, back when Prowl was recovering, Jazz made the stipulation he recharge on the berth's outside edge so he could disengage from Prowl if an angry Ratchet came looking. The first time they recharged without precautions for worried family or nosy medics Prowl insisted that Jazz go through his recharge routine in detail with him. After listening the tactician offered his own simplified solution: that Prowl sleep on the outside and Jazz on the inside. Prowl offered to keep his doorwings outward with the sensors turned fully on to detect even abnormal air currents, so long as Jazz behaved by keeping his hands and mouth to himself. Jazz could partway prop himself up so he'd have instant view of the room over Prowl's prone form.

Those doorwings and a mind capable of being as sharp and predatory as him "ruined" Jazz by becoming his newest addiction. Jazz craved that kind of stress-free recharge. He modified Prowl's room to have a security system duplicate to his own, masking the upgrades under other necessary upgrades he personally did to everyone's quarters. Prowl didn't think he could do it with Red touting right on his heels, but he managed to wear down the security director by doing Prime's room before Prowl's. Inferno had to gather up the distraught and exhausted officer, leaving Jazz to do as he pleased to Prowl's quarters (within permission).

"Jazz!" a stern voice snapped from outside his door. He jumped and turned mid-air to face the surprise before registering it as Prowl's. "Open this door. We're finishing the reports _now_. I don't care if it takes all night, and I'm not listening to your excuses about being too busy because of another mission. I'm tired of you putting these off."

Jazz commanded the door open and barely finished his reply, "Lead the way," before Prowl pushed his way inside the room. Hallway voices were briefly heard, with Ironhide's laughter suggesting his quarters' door was left open. When the noises were muffled again Jazz glimpsed Prowl's arms filled with datapads.

He watched Prowl set them down on his table. "What's on those?"

"Absolutely nothing. I just grabbed an armful of spare datapads from my office and walked here with a crossed expression to avoid questions." He flicked a doorwing with indifference. "First Aid comm'ed me a little bit ago for a routine check-in and mentioned in passing that Ratchet and Prime were looking at some new imports in Ironhide's quarters. When I probed for an update on you he added that he wasn't entirely certain you'll be ready to resume on-board officer responsibilities next shift."

The tactician glanced back at the pile, taking a moment to straighten the corners. "I think I actually have a few work items for you back in my office, but from First Aid's reply I thought it unlikely your mindset has adequately adapted to the role of stationed officer running a base. "

"What a sweet way to say 'too fragged up to sit through regular reports.'"

Prowl ignored the tease. "I also opted to not take the time and search for them underneath the pile Prime evidently left me, in the chance you were about to recharge alone."

Jazz's anxiety subsided temporarily enough for an affectionate smile at that admission. It wasn't the first time Prowl took the initiative to prove a cover story, but outside of actually bringing work the mech didn't bother because his efforts tended to make Jazz sound like a total slacker and Prowl a complete hardaft. Such was the case now but Jazz didn't care. If anything, others would automatically excuse the secretly-fake accusations due to his mission, while adding the exchange as another marker of proof for their perceptions of a cold tactician. Not that SIC had any emotional investment in fixing their perceptions, and Jazz's current interests didn't include another explanation about the subject.

The TIC's smile turned coy. "Should I start timing my reports around Prime's new workload handoff, so you stop bringing reports waiting on me with you or to your quarters?"

"Do that and I'll take away one of your security mice droids."

"Don't be cruel," he protested with an exaggerated pout. "Now help me get through my routine before I'm nearly dead on my peds again." Allowing Prowl to know, let alone participate in Jazz's pre-recharge routine took significant trust, aside from revealing just how neurotic and distrusting he could be underneath the partying music-enthusiast. Much of that trust bridge was forged by knowing Prowl faced similar struggles, albeit of a more personal nature, with equal gravity should a mistake occur.

Rather than reply, his guest moved to the furthest corner of the living section for Jazz's quarters. He glided around the vase holding drumsticks, knowing they weren't actually drumsticks. Standing on the tips of peds to reach the corner, he pressed a code against the buttons hidden beneath the wall surface. Activating one section of the top detection grid complete, he continued moving downward until he activated the next three, to provide ceiling-to-floor coverage.

Jazz wasted no time doing the same until they completed all sensor locations, from walls to furniture, for all but the berth area. After Wheeljack accidently setoff emergency protocols to automatically open all doors (which thankfully had enough mechs scrambling to hide their own secrets or stashes – or in the case of a few officers looking for ways to bust their "favorite" Autobot soldiers – that no one noticed the pair in mid overload), Jazz installed holographic one-way dividers in his and Prowl's quarters to hide the berth from an open door. Directional sound mufflers also adorned those dividers for the same reasons.

Prowl waited for Jazz to finish all but the last task, keeping his thoughts to himself about disruptive habits. It wasn't his place to point out Jazz's, even though he considered it when Jazz pressed him for allowing modifications in his own quarters. In the end he agreed because how could he not accept Jazz's core-deep problems when Jazz accepted his?

Jazz initiated the timer for his "mice," or a secondary scanning system with mobility and climbing capabilities. By the end the tasks drained what little renewed energy Prowl's entrance brought him. He crawled onto his berth and settled on the wedged pillow to view the whole quarters.

Prowl handed him his knee pillow for alleviating strain from his hip's permanent damage, keeping his hand on the furthest because he knew to not yet touch the saboteur. When Jazz was done Prowl laid down on his side by the edge, as flat as possible with his doorwings fanning off the edge. Optimally spread and angled for detecting motion, frequencies, temperatures, etc. throughout the room, he reset the sensors to near maximum sensitivity. He inquired softly, "Would you like me to read to you until you fall asleep?"

"Are your doorwing sensors set at max?" the surveying mech instead asked.

"Ninety percent. I'll turn them up to 100% once I'm done reading, so I don't get excessive feedback of my own voice."

"What about 95%?"

"Ninety-three percent is the max I can do before it becomes an ache."

Jazz shortly nodded once. "Do that."

"It's done. Do you want me to read to you?"

"Very quietly."

"Of course, I won't speak loud enough to mask other sounds," Prowl acknowledged the fear, knowing this was just how Jazz was when he couldn't decompress. There was really only one type of reading material that worked in these cases.

He pulled out a datapad from his subspace, mostly memorized in case of this so he could watch Jazz. His voice was so low it was near mute but he knew Jazz's audios would hear him just fine. "Energon supply reserves, consumption rates, and risks for last week, as submitted yesterday by Hound and analyzed by me. Consumption rates are organized by day and shift, which I compare against schedule roster to see if any consumption rate spikes or dips correspond with a single or set of Autobots. Day one, shift one: Hound reports..."

Prowl started into the report, often glancing at Jazz's visor to watch for any dimming from slowly initiating recharge. He had real reading material, but he found that Jazz was quicker to fall asleep listening to daily reports about positive _normal_ and _safe_ operations. He suspected listening to it walked Jazz back from that DANGER EVERYWHERE edge and welcomed him back to a world of secured normality. Helped him return to being a mech who planned fun outings for bored Autobots; a mech who sometimes woke Prowl up by playfully nibbling on his fingers.

When Prowl finished the comprehensive report he noted with a sweep of his optics and doorwing sensors that Jazz was _almost_ in recharge. He pulled out a second datapad. "Routine maintenances checks, as cumulatively prepared by the following Autobots..."

After finishing the first eighth he finally detected Jazz falling completely into recharge. While he strongly preferred to keep his doorwing sensors down to 25% when not gathering tactical data, he knew better than to have anything less than 100% when Jazz was still in these stages. He made sure he wouldn't roll into Jazz's prone form, but he did move his hand close to Jazz's wedge pillow. Prowl turned up his hand's sensors all the way, knowing that their unique heightened sensitivity would be enough to sense distress in Jazz's upper body. Committed to recharging in that position, he offlined.

Prowl's doorwing and hand sensors pulled him out of recharge prematurely when movement was detected, but when the alerts came back with a zero-danger rating - well, a danger rating close enough to be negligible - he opted for ignoring it and fall back into recharge. Those intentions changed when that "non-suspicious movement" ended with a hot mouth nipping his neck's muscle cables. His optics onlined and he found Jazz's upper body rolling into his chassis, the saboteur very much awake and stretching out a crick in his waist from the awkward recharge angle.

"Feeling better?" Prowl quietly inquired, all heightened senses and sensors focused on detecting any outward signs of Jazz's mental state that might be described in the Autobot physiatrists classification database as a concerning sign. A database not meant for anyone lacking proper trained in evaluating and deducing as such, but Prowl was never keen on waiting for an evaluation by what few physiatrists were left over a cryptic file masking all identity indicators; rather, he often opted to pair his unlimited access to the database with his statistical knowledge and own databases. So far his success ratings weren't below a failing threshold, at least.

"Mmhmm."

"May I turn my doorwing sensors down to their normal level?"

"Mmhmm, unless you're feeling daring to feel something stronger than 25% input."

"I'm not." Prowl took that allowance as evidence Jazz was at or near functional for typical base operations. He turned all of his sensors back to his normal sensitivity ranges, including those in his hand. Prowl deliberately never told Jazz about the hand sensors, uncertain what a hyper-vigilant or interface-wanting Jazz would do with that information.

"Okay," his berth partner easily accepted. "Thanks for coming over here."

"You're welcome."

Jazz chuckled at the polite reply, spoken as if his mouth wasn't hovering over Prowl's neck and his hands weren't languidly moving down Prowl's body. His movements were deliberately slow for reasons besides building a mood, but because of the worries in the back of his mind pointed to a lingering sense of danger.

All of the TIC's ghosting touches came to a sudden stop, when Prowl's hand softly tapped a cable port by his midsection. Jazz ex-vented against his requestor's neck, burying his face. "Sorry, but not now, Prowler."

"Why?" Prowl protested at being stopped over a hardline connection with Jazz.

Jazz shook his helm, dragging it across Prowl's shoulder. "I'm still running too hot to risk a data connection with you. I know how important it is to you, but I can't promise that during an overload I won't automatically rush you with hostile data."

When Jazz felt his companion ever-so-slightly slump forward, he brought his hands up to Prowl's face. He guided the mech's face to his own, knowing that what Prowl wanted was direction. A large chuck of why Prowl wanted Jazz's feedback data was to direct his efforts and plans. If Prowl didn't get the chance to satisfy the needs that stemmed from being an obsessive planner, then the next best solution was to literally drag Prowl's attention in the direction Jazz wanted it and tell him the plan. "How about you let me burn off my excess _attentiveness_ while you relax? No data needed."

The argument was met with a frown. "You know how difficult it is for me to overload without data."

' _Oh yes, I_ so _do_.' Jazz was very familiar with the issue they ran into once Prowl's tac-set was back up and running smoothly. Without something occupying the tac-set during interfacing it tended to gnaw at Prowl and consistently interrupt to the point of killing the mood, insisting that it not be left idle when work could be done. For the first couple of interfaces it left Jazz frustrated and Prowl in a mixed state of confusion and agitation.

After that Jazz asked Prowl had he used to overcome the problem for an overload, given Prowl's admission about his previous "lover" (a label too strong for what the mech meant to Prowl). Prowl explained that by meeting the mech for an interface in a private room inside Iacon's primary Theoretician's Wing, tapped into the nearby super-computer and used it to keep his tac-set completely occupied elsewhere. The revelation made for some interesting images for Jazz on what a frag against a super-computer in a sort of "double" interface might entail.

Without the availability of a super-computer that either will willing to use for such reasons, since neither saw diverting any of _Teletraan_ as an option, Jazz sought out ways to overcome the challenge. He downloaded and modified pre-war strategy plans so that he could feed the "new" data to the tac-set, which was easily the strangest interfacing activity Jazz had ever done for a non-target. His plans involved slowly modifying the data to be less about corporate strategies and more Jazz-flavored, from entertainment to personal relationships, but for now it was too early to introduce those topics without a flat out rejection by the tac-set.

Jazz glided a finger around a hip strut and then dipped the fingertip into a seam to brush a sensor. "We've got the time, and my systems are running plenty hot. Just focus on feeling the moment and don't resist any needs or reactions."

Prowl stifled the last half of his groan but failed at preventing his leg from automatically rotating away to free the seam. He pushed back against Jazz's chassis; not hard enough to ruin Jazz's mood but enough to make Jazz look him in the optics. "And what of you?" His hand tentatively brushed a chassis seam.

The visored mech caught the hand. "Don't worry about me, Prowler. Like I said, my systems are running plenty hot. I don't need help getting revved up. Might need the exact opposite, but I'll take staying the same until you join me."

Jazz rolled his whole body over Prowl's, using the fluid movement to kick his knee pillow off the berth and straddle Prowl. He didn't tell Prowl that the reason they had time was because he'd come out of interrupted recharge needing to make sure Prowl was still the mech he was steadily, hesitantly, becoming dependent upon for helping him end his demons sooner than when left on his own. Nor did he want to tell Prowl that a hardline might have problems _before_ the overload, as those demons were merely smaller and not gone.

Words wouldn't purge the saboteur of those demons, touches, sounds, movements, and tastes could put them to rest for at least a little while. Jazz listened to rising and falling crescendo mewling he heard and knew came at the touch of the doorwings; seeing the sharp back arches paired with light gasps as he rolled two digits along panel edges; feeling/hearing the small wing flutters fighting to stay calm at the mercy of his caress, and a moan both stuttered and stifled when he tasted the sweetened residue of spray cleaners that usually dried inside the neglected seams of Prowl's form.

The cleaner dried inside those seams washed out easily enough during showers, but Prowl used the cleaner early into his shifts and often enough, so that taste was almost as much a part of Prowl as any other. Jazz enjoyed knowing he was the only one who knew Prowl's hands and a few side seams were perpetually covered in dry cleaner residue, Prowl having become so accustomed to it he no longer noticed and medics rarely doing such detailed checks on a rifle-carrying tactician.

Jazz also enjoyed the sweet airy taste because it reminded him of festivals and energon artisan corners from before the war. That wasn't by coincidence, but by design. Before their first interface but after some intimate fun Jazz noticed the dried texture and chemicals of standard cleaners on Prowl's fingers, plus seams where aerosol blowback landed but the doorwinger couldn't easily wash. The taste and smell wasn't particularly pleasing, not to mention probably unsafe to risk accumulation inside fuel tanks, so Jazz gifted Prowl with a large supply of (fuel tank friendly) surface cleaners better than any available on base. The taste imbued into a piece of Prowl's every-orn activities was Jazz's secret mark on Prowl, to know that this was the Prowl he trusted and never an imposture, because only _his_ Prowl tasted like home.

Despite Jazz's efforts to control the atmosphere, the tactician wasn't ready to allow his cognitive abilities to be reduced to nothingness. His other hand reached for an audial horn and slowly moved his touches down the seams and vents to Jazz's jawline.

Using tactical touches, position changes, and a few other methods Jazz knew, both managed to bleed off Jazz's excess energy. Their efforts lasted perhaps twice as long as normal, but even Prowl was more content despite the tac-set's "nagging" about it idle state. Both were spent and dropped back, with Prowl lying on his back and on top of Jazz.

When their systems were both cool enough Prowl more-or-less moved to untwist his body. Jazz waited until Prowl stopped moving before commenting on his own state. "Dunno about you, but I'm ready to finish recharge."

"Indeed, a much needed requirement for me as well."

"In this spot, aka sprawled on top of me?" Jazz was surprised at Prowl's completely absent protest at this much cuddling.

Prowl moved his helm as little as possible to look Jazz in the visor. "I'm good if you're good."

A soft smile returned to Jazz's face and he wrapped one ankle strut around Prowl's closest ankle strut. "I'm good. Just didn't think you changed your mind about so much touching outside of interfacing."

Prowl watched Jazz's visor dim, feeling his own systems shut down as well. "I'm glad you're back," he finally answered after seeing Jazz's real smile return.

When Jazz's visor was offline and his own vision almost completely dark, Prowl mumbled the last words still on his mind."I suppose having to wait to hear if you were safe or captured by those 'Cons had some unexpected effect on me."

Prowl roused first, persistent internal schedule alerts going off like an evacuation drill pulling him out of an incomplete recharge. He read only the first few before dismissing them all, realizing he was very low on time before his shift started. Jazz was still wrapped around Prowl even after tilting onto his side. Prowl squirmed and flexed his doorwings, trying to push the sound recharger's limbs away. His efforts received a groan and a follow-on reward of Jazz squeezing him tighter.

Prowl kept his voice low but firm to get his captor's attention. "Jazz."

Jazz onlined some to his name but didn't want to bother finish his bootup sequence. "I'm calling in sick."

"That's for you, Prime, and a medic to sort out. I need you to let me go."

"Can't. You're sick so you have to stay here."

"Let go or I'll command _Teletraan_ to override the ban list to play something from 'Most Hated Songs on Base' over your speakers. Perhaps 'This is the Song that Never Ends'."

Jazz's limbs flew away and smacked the berth flat. "You wouldn't dare violate your own ban."

Prowl climbed off of Jazz and off the berth. "Are you going to tell on me? Are you willing to give up your secrets to report me for such?"

"Abuse, man. That's totally abuse of power. I'll submit an anonymous report about your dirty tricks," Jazz grinned and flipped over so he could watch Prowl examine his unclean armor. ' _Such dirty tricks,_ ' he lewdly tacked on.

Prowl's nose crinkled as he created a task list for cleaning up in Jazz's private washracks. "That's quite the challenge you're setting up for yourself. Any officer would recognize your written linguistic style, name attached or not. When we get called into Prime's office to explain be sure to have your story well-rehearsed."

"Puh- _lease_. All my scheduled lies are well-rehearsed and I've long mastered improv. Spec Ops got the rhythm, moves, and tunes down for dancing our way outta trouble."

" _Riiiight_. Well, I'm going to use your washracks and head straight to my office."

Jazz purred, "Need – "

"No."

" – Help?"

Prowl looked Jazz over, ignoring his own retort to Jazz's attempted satisfaction for this particular type of post-mission libido, favoring instead to re-analyze Jazz. From his discrete data-gathering efforts on the mech, the Praxian understood there were some missions with an aftereffect on the Polyhexian resulting in a high repeatability cycle of _mission- interface- interface again_. His longest lasting hypothesis about the root cause behind the behavior had something to do with Jazz reaffirming his body, mind, and life were still intact; however, since Prowl had yet to figure out how to breech the subject, he continued to observe until he was better certain about his theories and how to present them.

For now he tried to be as flexible as his own schedule allowed to meet Jazz's key needs from him, or those that couldn't be met by Jazz's friends. Prowl's schedule was often more rigid, domineering, and unyielding than his own stance on soldiers sharing drinks after possible enemy activity detected, but if Prowl could calculate 800 moving objects' trajectories in under a split-klik, finding solutions to move a joor's work around once in a while couldn't be proclaimed as infeasible.

For the several times his tac-set complained about Jazz, he thought of Jazz's confession that part of what made Prowl uniquely special to him. Within Jazz's many contacts, the saboteur saw Prowl possibly as the only one with who would ( _and could)_ listen without judgment/fear over what dark choices and memories weighing Jazz down, or brought him out of recharge in a violent terror; he could grasp the mental struggle of what living with a "sabotage/kill list tucked away in one stained hand, party favors shopping list pristinely displayed to all in the other" could do to a mech.

Granted, Prowl never once had to shop for party favors, and for what _emotional_ struggles laid behind Jazz's woes were of a near-completely different variety than Prowl's, but the tactician wasn't without anything of comparable value in his own personal responsibilities.

Even if that wasn't true, if he truly had no way of grasping Jazz's troubles of integrating his halves of the morale-keeper and the Special Ops leader, that wasn't what was important. What mattered was the fact he could listen to Jazz's horrors and troubles, including the long unrecorded list of those never be acknowledged outside the most information-secured of rooms, without being negatively affected in some matter. Even more important was Prowl's successful ease at remaining calm during Jazz's two bewildered attacks in the last mega-orns. He even diffused the last one, and if what information Prowl already knew was accurate, there'd likely be more to come after the latest mission's wear disappeared. To Prowl that was important, being able to support someone beyond his desk, and so he resolved to find some way to spend the next several recharge cycles with Jazz.

He examined Jazz's lax body, the soft hues and luminosity of Jazz's visor, the coy small smile, and the slight wrinkles beneath the visor suggesting Jazz's optics were still strained. "Get some recharge. I'll make adjustments to the schedule to show a half-shift for you. Do you want me to leave on all of your security measures?"

"I'll turn 'em off. You go ahead and get cleaned up." He won against the impulse to say he still needed Prowl to guard him while he recharged. It was time to resist his problems taking hold. Didn't mean he couldn't enjoy watching the Praxian's efforts to cross the room with precise steps around the mice investigating him, though. Jazz detected the minute twitches in Prowl's doorwings as the grids interrogated his systems. When Prowl made it into the washrack Jazz reached for the hidden wall pocket by his berth.

Prowl adjusted the washrack setting to his preferences. When it was ready he used up almost all of his remaining free time to scrub, clean, and buffer his armor until he met his own standards for acceptable SIC appearance – not too polished to imply he neglected his duties, not too abandoned to suggest he couldn't maintain a balance between duty and wellbeing.

The time it took for him to wash until satisfied and walk out was evidently enough time for Jazz to doze off. He opted to not risk startling the mech and made for the main door. On his way out Prowl slowed as he considered his datapad stack. All but the top datapad were devoid of any stored data. He weighed the options of taking all or most of them until he decided on taking half. He was never short of datapads and leaving some here could be useful later.

Prowl carefully gathered that half in one arm and held the one with actual value in the other hand. Almost immediately when he cleared the doorway his mind snapped back to resume reading the datapad, dismissing the automatic pings from his tac-set for it to also resume activity. Walking the halls usually had someone grabbing his attention and his tac-set was never happy about the disruption. The tac-set was also not happy with Prowl's refusal to hardline into a datapad when moving about common areas, but no amount of alerts would override the lessons he learned about dividing his attention between busy hardlines and while moving his frame about mazes, filled with other disorderly frames. Especially after that time he walked into Springer despite Kup's warning and Whirl's witnessing. An angry Springer, a smug Kup, and mockingly hooting Whirl was an unpleasant experience, to put it politely.

The tactician kept his optics focused on his datapad as he used his doorwings to assist him in navigating around mechs milling about in the low-traffic hallways, navigating with his optics only when traffic increased or his sensors detected an energetic individual nearing proximity to his frame. One hallway turn short of his office his audios and doorwing sensors picked up First Aid's voice.

"Prowl," the freshly off-duty mech called.

Prowl turned around and glanced at the medic. "Hello, First Aid. What brings you here? I'd have assumed you to be in the midst of some sort of recreational activity by now."

The medic's optics gleamed brighter, the outer corners turning outward. "I'm just here for some follow up, but that's nice of you to ask."

' _More like the nice way to point out you shouldn't be here,_ ' Prowl silently corrected.

In the last 7 mega-orns First Aid had become a bit... of an overly involved medic (in Prowl's opinion) about how Prowl was handling his recovery. Twice Prowl caught him saying to others in the know about Prowl's true health threat that Aid was merely advocating on behalf of Prowl over the hope of finding a new balance in life. It made Prowl's innermost chassis workings twitch and tighten uncomfortably over what he could only describe as an unwanted attention over some invisible goals other set for him.

His relationship with First Aid was indeed complicated, but then his relationship with Ratchet was far more complex and coupled with bouts of new tension, which was probably half the reason Aid called himself an advocate of Prowl. At least First Aid hardly bothered him with extra questions and check-ins than medically reasonable.

Aid continued speaking to the mech without aware of Prowl's opinion, "How are you doing?"

"I'm much the same as your last check-in comm." He wasn't concerned about the possibility of his night or morning's activities being detected by First Aid or any other authorized mech via spark sensors. In the beginning First Aid, Ratchet, and the few others with the clearance-level checked in on him and the excessive number of spark sensor readings up to thrice daily. After a lack of reading interest in Prowl's behavior, Wheeljack finally removed two-thirds of them and placed them in spares. There were still plenty of spark sensors for them to know his spark too well to his liking, but with the cover stories Jazz and he cultivated, combined with a diminishing worry over his health and Aid's advocating, little was checked or questioned anymore.

"I figured," First Aid replied, "but Ratchet asked me to take a report to Red for him and check in on you again, should I see you. He mentioned you seemed agitated when you confronted Jazz in his quarters."

"I was hardly _agitated_. I was simply firm in my demand." Prowl noticed First Aid's empty hands, leaving open the chance Aid was waiting around for him.

First Aid shrugged. "I'm just repeating Ratchet's words. So shall I pass that on, or do you have anything you'd like me to add?"

"I shall see Ratchet at the scheduled time for my routine check." In the spirit of his complex relationship with Ratchet, his repeated dealings with Ratchet suggested routine checks, minor damages (like a dented ped), and administrative tasks returned to a more-or-less normal state. He had no injuries exceeding minor damages for comparisons, but Ratchet transferred all spark-related work to the others a little before Jack pulled out the extra sensors. Aid claimed it was to keep everyone fresh on understanding spark health and because the CMO didn't have time for nonessential daily checks. If spending countless vorns working with Special Ops and now in secret relationship with the Head of XOps taught Prowl anything, it was how to spot lies.

"Alright, will do. Oh, how is Jazz? His systems were exhausted when he came back from the mission. I cleared him on the expectation he go straight to his quarters for rest."

"He mostly had 'catnaps', and we worked when he was awake. He should be recharging now, but he's expected to be on duty for the last half of shift."

"Thanks, I'll ask Perceptor to comm-check in on him around then. Take care," he said in a bid goodbye.

Prowl entered his office, immediately restocking his spares inside the recessed wall storage. When he sat down at his main _Teletraan_ terminal he smoothly plugged the datapad directly into the terminal in a well-practice motion. Underneath the desk and below the terminal, in place where neither infiltrating enemy nor punished troublemakers would detect, Prowl connected an upper-thigh hardline to a hidden terminal access point. The location was very atypical, but he could stand without interference or restriction.

When the connection secured his tac-set automatically whirled to full activity, eager to work upon and satisfy its aggressive computational AI nature after a lengthy downtime. He auto-requested a piece of his startup routine to his tac-set, [[What is my unassessed or incomplete report count since my previous shift's end? Organize by priority.]]

It replied in its routine fashion, [[User initiate action, query-type command. User query parameter: filter active reports with last saved assigned personnel name containing 'Prowl' or user roles applied to User Prowl; count reports with last saved status not equal to 'cancelled', 'returned', 'closed', or 'completed'; group count by last saved priority type. User query type: integer return. Activate _Teletraan_ database 'all outstanding filed reports with completed intake assessments'.

[[Activate subroutine, name defined as 'db_results_int_09843'. Active subroutine: Filter active database to list only report entries assigned to 'Prowl', 'Autobot Second-in-Command,' or 'Head of Tactical Department'. Subroutine paused. Action to User Prowl: Clarify if Prowl wants database items assigned to commanding officers but not specific officers?]]

Prowl deflated a little when the tac-set paused already after only 0.0002 kliks. The incoming workload had skyrocketed for various reasons, and one of the biggest causes was lower officers suddenly finding themselves promoted to senior officer levels, and so on until strapped bases with untrained officers were sending blanket and incorrectly filed reports. Usually the seconds of each commanding officer's department addressed such issues, but being on Earth had given them a new opportunity that Optimus Prime wanted seized. As such, everyone was extremely busy and Prowl was not one to risk any oversight. Sometimes he took on the responsibility to reassign, but often it actually fell to Ironhide since his vast experiences gave him plenty of insight of reassigning work.

Alas, for Prowl, the reason Ironhide had guests over was because it was the start of his 3 shift rotations off. [[Yes, include them as well. Keep them separated since the workload is still jointly shared with Ironhide. Don't rank by priority, except for the top 4 priority levels.]] Prowl silently added his gripe, ' _They're usually the wrong priority classifications anyways._ ' [[He's still expected to have his scheduled full break, so assume yes until then.]]

[[AI initiated action to User Prowl: action return confirmed, parameters set to separate generalized command officer count from those assigned to User Prowl. Action to User Prowl: complete, zero error returns. Active subroutine resumed.

[[Activate child function, name defined as 'db_seek_str_00255': Seeking active database entries that fit query parameters… seeking… Function 'db_seek_str_00255' status: complete, no error returns. Activate child function, name defined as 'results_group_str_01001': Count and store count by priority type... conditional counting of sibling 'db_seek_str_00255' return... Function 'results_group_str_01001' status: complete, no error returns. New child function, name defined as 'results_group_str_78302': Count and store count by priority tier type… status: complete, no error returns.

[[Subroutine 'db_results_int_09843' return: Tier 1: 1 enemy-activity priorities, 0 life-threatening, 0 imminent-danger, 0 non-combat emergency; Tier 2: 1 critical, 1 elevated, 4 high; Tier 3: 87 normal, 119 low priorities. Eighty-six unassigned reports for command officers, zero reports with a Tier 1 priority. Subroutine 'db_results_int_09843' status: complete, no error returns.

[[Status of User Prowl query: complete, 0.0002% error probability in parsing user string query for data compiling. Tac-set status: active, at risk of idle performance, zero current reported error codes or conditions.]]

The entire coded output communication after the pause was less than a split-klik but Prowl understood it all as if it were normal conversation. The tac-set's power relays, memory, drivers, its constant self-made improvements, and Prowl's ability to communicate with it at low-level all streamlined the process into split-klik communications. The AI didn't see fit to speak to Prowl at a higher level like how _Teletraan_ communicated to its users, because preservation of operation efficiencieswere all that mattered; it wasn't conducive to cold computational efficiencies on converting its operations output to a normal user communication style.

Prowl had no problem with "conversing" with the AI in such a manner, although it did make him wince a fraction when the new function's name was almost up to 6 digits. The implication was he had just that many text-based database searches used often enough that the AI determined them worth storing. These were searched that had similar purposes but were distinctly different enough they couldn't be reused.

Jazz, his brothers, the remaining command officers, and more thought the only way for Prowl to understand his workload size predicament was for _them_ to tell _him_. Prowl never needed their comments despite how it looked, because his tac-set being forced to save nearly a 100,000 database searches for such menial tasks, followed by an absurd number of reports supposedly only _he_ could approve/disapprove, spoke more volumes than any mech could raise. Those details were always getting worse to some degree, too, due to the slow destabilizing intelligence/administrative reporting from millenniums-long war.

Almost three quarters of the reports he ended up downgrading their priorities read like an overstressed and undertrained officer losing their mind at another base. At least he could delegate to his own galactic-dispersed tactical officers to find the most readily-available options to replace the ill-suited officer, although that required him generating a new report and then doing his own analysis on someone else's analysis of what he created. ' _Logic succumbing to incoherent madness,_ ' he vexed.

The AI suddenly responded to Prowl's "private" concerns without prompting, [[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type. Primary action outcome results: provide strategic recommendation to User Prowl for reconstructing system into logical structure at a sustainable rate. Performing full-system assessment. Battle computer building data package … packaging… sending package data and analysis results to simulator… simulating… battle computer analyzing and repackaging simulation results for logic center… sending updated data packaging to logic center… analyzing… logic center sending corrected data packaging to battle computer for error assessment. No errors returned. Battle computer perform another full iteration of data review to reduce variables… iteration loop one… iteration loop two… battle computer confirms results with acceptable margin of error.

[[AI Barricade recommendation over course of action: Seek status change histories on elevated and critical reports. Historical trends strongly show to disregard these 2 high priority items until Officer Ironhide returns, and re-evaluate these 2 high priority items.]] The AI laid out a thorough schedule, current and forecasted workload, the most efficient attack plan for workload reduction with minimal-to-no operations impact. Each part was laid over the next like a map. As it was navigating Prowl through its complex strategy, highlighting reports as it went (i.e. the high priorities it recommended ignoring despite standard command procedures), the AI automatically started downloading updates from _Teletraan_ in the order it recommended - without waiting for Prowl's concurrence.

At the end of the beautifully-constructed strategy review that probably only Prowl would feel his spinal strut unwinding, he was torn between letting the AI violate his rules in its efforts to proactively soothe his worries, or put his ped down. He noticed the growing tendency of it not waiting for order confirmation like it did in all the time before his latest and closest spark death. Since that near-death the tac-set AI had randomly acted without any orders, but at least it was so far contained to times when internal arguments or unexpected AI intrusions couldn't cause more than a personal helmache. There were also the other random incidences of the AI using its self-given name "Barricade" when providing recommendations.

In the end he chose neither praise nor reprimand for extra initiative, and ignored the name popping up again. [[Acknowledged.]]

After checking all details related to the high priority items the AI wanted first evaluated in case they ought to have their priority levels raised, Prowl confirmed nothing more could be done until Prime got to that data. _'Perhaps I should verify that Prime will be finalizing his portion of these reports before he ends his shift. I doubt the Wreckers will wait much longer, regardless if they can or not.'_

[[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type. Primary action – ]]

[[Abort action. I don't need to know the statistical chances that Prime provided complete data, or how to modify his environment to better advise him on his workload.]] The SIC disrupted the tac-set, knowing which of the hundreds of subject-related subroutines it favored when considering Prime and workflow.

Again he thought of correcting the AI, having now done this new "order jumping the gun" twice in less than a joor, but he decided on not dwelling on the minor annoyance; it didn't impacted his performance at the speed they communicated.

The tactician moved on to Jazz's latest report, currently the only one classified as enemy activity and assigned to him. Prowl knew more related reports would come from Jazz's department, and probably others, but Jazz had to first do his part of assessing the reports.

So for the moment, until those reports were partly or wholly assigned to him, things fell back into order. The Praxian read Jazz's report and heard the constant chattering "whispers" of the AI hard at work once the hardline was established and firewalls bypassed. Every few sentences Prowl had to do a double-read because Jazz's reporting skills had been improving exponentially of late, and this one was leapsbeyond any of its predecessors.

The chattering whispers stopped and a clear voice forced itself to the forefront of his mind. [[AI initiated query to User Prowl: Delay current scheduled shift's end, add shift, start new shift, or adjust other workloads to offset increased memory consumption over Officer Jazz's raw data findings? All breaks have already been scheduled as working breaks, prior to newest report intake. Officer Jazz's 128% increase in detailed data reporting was not forecasted and will require at least 2 joors to fully analyze and provide all possible outcomes with statistically likelihoods.]]

[[Maximize my schedule between now and Jazz's estimated arrival for debriefing, with a focus in completing as much of the workload pile as possible. Wait until after Jazz's responses to determine afternoon schedule and any following shifts.]]

When Prowl finished his portion of Jazz's report the tac-set redistributed its memory for dual analysis. While it continued with Jazz's impressive data collection (that was possibly giving him spark flutters), Prowl speedily read through reports stored on datapads instead of in _Teletraan_ ,for whatever reasons required the reports be kept separate.

A half joor before Jazz's tentative arrival the AI grabbed at Prowl's attention again. [[AI initiated query to User Prowl: Allow recommendation based on Prowl's efficiency trends, current performance, and historical trends of office hour disruptions by Officer Jazz?]]

[[Just the efficiency-related calculations for myself and allocate 10% buffer in schedule for Jazz.]] ' _I suspect the events surrounding our last recharge will somehow find a way to surface during the debriefing. I..._ ' Prowl faltered, not sure what to make about that spark flickers and other feelings.

The AI processed his response before Prowl could further contemplate last recharge. [[Status of AI initiated query: Complete, zero current reported error codes or conditions. Query result summary: Barricade's recommended schedule for initial parameters set by Prowl is activated. Barricade will also establish prompts for Prowl's progress based on active schedule, and adjust accordingly for Prowl's performance and any interruptions, or if Jazz's departure is delayed.]]

For a moment Prowl mulled over "Barricade's" summary, both in its unprompted actions and it now dropping role titles, like "User" and "Officer." Still, nothing in that summary was harmful or disruptive to the Autobots, so he set aside his musing for starting on the next report.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _This fic's plot is the most complex and longest I've ever written. It contains plenty of fluff, tension, hopes, destruction, and whatnot. How that's arrange is largely dependent on which of the 2 arcs the chapter falls under, but I won't name chapters by arc to avoid undermining the suspense. A/Ns will cover the arc change._

 _Thanks for any reviews, comments, and constructive critiques!_


	2. Chapter 2

After completing 2 of the 4 high-priority reports, Prowl worked on clearing out his queue of several rated normal priority. When it neared time for Jazz to start his shift he pulled up the critical report that he suspected was tied to Jazz's. He looked it over, trying to not think too much about it and let the tac-set work on discarding the tactically-useless notes often scattered inside Wrecker reports. They were especially present when written by Kup or Springer, the former getting caught up in linking everything to an "I remember this one time when…" story and the latter's bluntly opinionated mission notes. This report also kept causing an unpleasant roll in his energon tanks every time he picked it back up because they both co-wrote it.

Their non-essential additions weren't entirely without benefit, but he preferred a substantially more objective approach to linking battles old and new, or consolidating the annotated "lessons learned" information to a final list. The rest of it sometimes ended with a helmache as he felt the occasional emotion seep past his emotion filters. Emotions not identified on the "happiness" spectrum.

He checked _Teletraan_ and found that Optimus had started updating his portion of the Wrecker's report but hadn't yet released it for another's view. ::Prime, do you have a klik?::

::A klik, but not a breem,:: Optimus replied. ::The meeting is still ongoing, but the current topic does not require immediate input from me.::

' _Ah, another delay in the bureaucratic needs across the nations?_ ' he pondered. They were wrapping up some activities with NATO on legal standings, while leveling out the bumpy roads of resource purchasing and allocating.

That wasn't a question for a quick comm-exchange. ::Yes, of course I'll keep this short. Regarding report WRKR-2010, I saw you had started working on it but hadn't released it yet. Is it something I require for my portion of the report analysis?::

For almost the rest of the klik there wasn't any response. Then, :: _Teletraan_ 's been updated.::

::Thank you. Do you require any support or supplemental materials from me? I can also have someone bring you energon.:: Ever since Prowl's "selfishly unethical actions" caused "egregious security vulnerabilities" that a less compassionate Prime would've listed as cause for dismissal, Prowl tried being extra courteous. Granted, Prime didn't specifically express those exact words as his own, but some of the officers said them to Prime and the words eventually made their way back to him.

The first time he made an offer to help Prime beyond his usual responsibilities had Red Alert panicked that Prowl came back from the near-dead wrong. The second time had the Twins so perturbed they called him a "creepy ghoul" and retreated. Most might find it insulting but Prowl saw the strategic advantage in that reaction. When Prowl didn't have time to waste on disruptions during prep time for Jazz's training mission, he was exceedingly kind to Prime in front of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. It had the effect he wanted and lasted just long enough.

::If I don't come out in two more joors, please send either Mirage or Bumblebee. Their stealth should keep them from accidently inviting more questions.::

::So noted.:: Prowl closed the line and shifted his attention back to _Teletraan_.

Prowl read through Prime's response regarding the Wrecker's report, which was mostly related to what Autobot General Army plans he will be implementing and how he wanted Prowl to structure his own plans to meet his intentions. The Wreckers sent one report, although it was more like two they consolidated into one despite regulations. Springer's decision, probably. The report contained information on their current efforts and requesting tactical input, while also requesting new Wreckers additions. Their last battle had permanently deactivated a few teammates, bringing their small numbers lower than the minimum mission critical count.

Due to the leap in quantity for base rotation requests, Prowl required Prime to provide him the information on what he expected for the different fronts so he could look over how his plans might relate to using or staffing the Wreckers. Prowl reviewed the information while keeping Jazz's report in mind. He wasn't certain if Prime had seen the few similarities in the Decepticon activities between Jazz's mission and the Wrecker's report. From the looks of it he hadn't, but then that's what Prime had a Head Tactician, and why Prowl would be running the debrief meeting for Jazz's mission.

He stopped his analysis when he knew Jazz would be starting his half-shift. Nonetheless, he still confirmed. ::Jazz, will you be reporting for duty soon or are you going through with your plans to skip it?::

::Nah, got the a-okay from Percy so I'm all good. Didn't see a reason to fake anything since I haven't my nappin' friend available. Need me?::

::If you would please. I have questions about your report.::

::Well _yeah_. Can't say it went according to our initial plans, and I know we used some unorthodox means and all. Has the officer meeting for full debrief been scheduled yet?::

::Tentatively. Besides the actual mission changes and observations, I suspect you and I need to review a few related important details first to properly build a debrief meeting agenda.::

Even over the commlink Jazz groaned. ::Anything I should already be mentally preparing myself for?::

::I suspect it links to WRKR-2010.::

::Which one is that again?::

::The most recent report from Springer and Kup.::

::Oh yeah! I liked Kup's little stories in that one. Ya know, if you read them in the right voice they can be fun. Granted, you got to know when to skim and when to dive in, but Kup's been writing reports the same way for so long that it's easy to figure out how he writes.::

Prowl stifled his own groan. ::I suppose. I'll take that under advisement, but it's not what I'm questioning.::

::I never care much for Springer's writing, though,:: Jazz continued. ::The guy's reports read like he's got some disdain for what I do, being in the shadows when his team is more about beating your door down. And you can totally tell he's size-bias when it comes to fights.::

This time Prowl allowed the groan to be vocalized. ::Jazz, if we may move back on to topic?::

::Right, right, right. Let me just swing through the Rec Room for my normal morale checks and I'll be there. Rec Room's helm count is probably low right now, with everyone either on-duty, volunteering, or recharging. I can't believe we waited this long for construction work.::

::Jazz.::

::I _can_ walk and talk, ya know.::

::I'm well aware of your gift of multitasking. Now, if we may...::

::This isn't multitasking,:: Jazz interrupted. ::I do know multitasking, and I know the difference between multitasking and doing a task while your processor runs scripts for the regular stuff. Like how normal walking has its own script so I can focus all I want on talking. Even while chewing on a tough energon goodie and seeing if I can blow bubbles from the more-elastic gelled surfaces.::

::Jazz.:: The chattery side of Jazz after a mission wasn't unusual. Having spent more private time with the mech, Prowl noticed the talkativeness was as much as 38% higher during Jazz's online periods following stressful periods. There two largest increases were also followed by a bad recharge that orn. From that limited correlation data, Prowl suspected that Jazz's recharge after Prowl left wasn't restful. A question to be asked during off-duty conversations.

::It's important to Special Ops to know what can be scripted so it doesn't require your active attention. You ought to know, between tact-activities and why we had that training.::

::JAZZ!:: That chattiness didn't mean he'd allow endless patience for it, especially during duty. Even Bluestreak didn't get endless patience.

::Alright, alright, sheesh. Cranky, aren't you? Maybe next time you'll stay in the berth with me and finish recharge. You get a full recharge, I get one less interruption.::

 _'So that's your plan_ ,' Prowl belatedly realized. ::I have work, and if I start my shift late then I'll leave late, and I'll have to shorten my orn to be on time for my next shift. That likely means I'll require recharge of the solitary kind.:: He had no intention of recharging alone, but Jazz didn't need to know.

::Funny. I'd say 'let's see you try' but knowing you, you'd follow through just to prove me wrong and call it a lesson. I'm assuming you haven't broken away from work for energon so I'll include a cube for you. See you soon.::

Prowl didn't respond, declining Jazz the opportunity in continuing the conversation. He checked the time and _Teletraan_ for Optimus's location. Upon seeing that it hadn't change, he sent a message to Bumblebee to get Prime energon, attaching Prime's request.

Prowl worked a little longer on the comparison analysis until he heard Jazz's rhythmic knock. He was in the middle of disconnecting his focus from the hardline when Jazz walked into the room. Luckily, Prowl had long mastered the look of awareness despite having limited external input feeds.

"Alright," Jazz started as he sauntered to a guest chair, "what's this about me having something in common with Springer's group?" He slide the cube across the desk and settled into the chair.

"Yes," Prowl began once he was reengaged with the real world, "you mentioned that it looks like the Decepticons are preparing for something related to new intelligence from a non-Earth source. In regards to another set of battle fronts."

Jazz shrugged and then folded his arms asymmetrically across his torso. "Yeah. That's all in there. I took extra good notes. Right?" There was a bit of hesitation in the last word.

"It is," Prowl agreed. "You've excelled throughout your recent reports."

Jazz's small smile doubled and he nodded, before settling against the chair's back, loosely crossing his ankles and easing his crossed arms. "Good. So what do you need from me?"

"I'd like to go through the Wrecker report with you and see what catches your attention as a possible connection to your own report. I believe I've marked all incidents of potential overlap, but it would be best to get that from you. That's what I'll include in the meeting agenda for your debrief."

"Sounds like a plan. So when's it tentatively scheduled?"

"My calculations and trend analysis over your observations gives us over 98% confidence that we'll have at least a two deca-orns before they'll near final stages of any schemes. Given the return state of your team's affairs, I thought tomorrow would be best, a little after mid-shift. That gives us time to talk, and for you to confirm Mirage and Bumblebee have finished their reports."

"Alright, I got time to talk. There's nothing else absolutely totally needing my attention before the official debrief. My team's reports are almost done. I comm'ed them on my way here. Bee is fine and will finish before he 'clocks' off. Raj is doing what he normally does at the end of unwinding after a mission gone way off plan, but promises to have it done by the joor before."

"What exactly is that? What does Mirage do that has him putting reports off so late?"

"Nothing of tactical use," Jazz said with a visor wink. "Don't ask because I'm not giving him up."

"But you've already started."

"Prowl," Jazz called to stop, refusing with a small frown.

"And there's more that goes into tactical planning than the execution of the actual plan. Timing and incorporation of post-mission data is every bit as important. You aren't qualified to make decisions on Tactical's behalf."

"Prowl, no."

"It's important to Tactical to know what can be considered as a regular occurrence in or around a mission so it doesn't impact a tactician's actively-engaged focus. You should know - "

"I see what you're doing! You're turning my words on me to get me to spill!"

Prowl deliberately offered a small smile as a concession. "More like to discourage you from trying that again. Shall we continue with my intended exercise, then?"

They worked through the report, with Prowl skipping "the fluff" parts that he found of no use, regardless of Jazz's opinion of amusement value. As they were finishing their final notes, Prowl received a request from Medbay. A doorwing sharply twitched before he forced it back to neutral. "Medbay is calling."

"Here's hoping it's over nothing?" Jazz's mouth twisted into a sideways displeasure.

The tactician opened the line. ::This is Prowl.::

::Prowl, this is Perceptor.::

::Perceptor, how can I assist? Is there a reason why your using the Medbay commlink instead of your own?::

::I'm calling because of some notes I saw in Ratchet's administrative files. I'm using the Medbay commlink simply to officially mark this conversation took place, in case he protests later.::

::And what is causing you to take preemptive measures for damage control?::

::At a cursory evaluation of the staffing-related files, I found several annotated notes indicating a high frustration, and my educated prediction is that it will hinder the next officer meeting regarding such matters. I know you have an appointment with him today for a routine engine system medical check. Given the magnitude of checks you've already passed previously, I suggest foregoing this one and opting to assist him instead.::

::You want me to suggest skipping a medical check to Ratchet?::

::Of course not. I'll do it. I've worked with Ratchet long enough in and outside of Medbay to know which discussion points have the best chance of getting him to agree with me. Records of this comm. being made will back up my claim I've check with you that 1) you're feeling the same as you typically function on shifts similar to this one, and 2) you've agreed to the appointment change. So do you agree with both accounts?::

Prowl ran a fast systems check. ::My systems check return values within the acceptable range. I have no other issues, and I'm willing to make sure Ratchet doesn't fall behind on his administrative duties.::

::Then I'll make the arrangements. Word of advice: don't say 'fall behind on duties' to Ratchet.::

::Understood.:: Both Prowl and Perceptor closed out their lines simultaneously.

"What's the frown for?" Jazz asked as soon as Prowl's optics turned to him.

Prowl smoothed out the micro negative expression. "I have a meeting with Ratchet that may turn unpleasant, if I don't fully mind his outlook on the subject. Given that Ratchet's clues for impending irritation are his body language instead of actual words, and I am poor at reading all but the most frequent signs, I suspect I'll miss 'minding' something."

Jazz looked at Prowl as his mind latched onto a fragment of that comment. He thoughtfully rubbed the side of his jawline as the idea speedily built itself.

Rather than tell Prowl about the idea, however, he offered different advice until he could investigate its potential later. "Let him do all the talking and if you feel like pushing back or commenting about anything other than the actual administrative work, comm. me first. Get it off your chassis and I'll let you know if it sounds like a solid point to make."

"I don't require a sparkling-sitter, especially over the simple task of talking. My social skills may be lacking, but I'm not completely inept," he replied with a dry drawl, nipping the inside of his cheek towards the end.

"Just try it, okay? I'm just thinking, Ratchet's got the body language a lot like a turbo-fox, metaphorically. Ears pinned back, dentae bared when getting angry."

"I'm sorry, what?" Prowl's back, although already straight, managed to straighten more. "Having been in trouble with him for plenty and I have never seen such things."

"I said _metaphorically_ ," the more creatively-colorful mech defended before adding, "and by 'metaphorically' I also mean exaggerating to make a point."

"Metaphors and hyperboles are not the same thing," the more literary-aware mech pointed out.

"Art of storytelling, my mech. Especially when the audience's mental facilities can be totally impaired, be it at a party, distracting a Medbay patient or distressed 'bot, or something else." Jazz smiled at Prowl's raised optic ridge and wrinkled nosebridge, clearly not fully grasping whatever scenario was playing out in his mind about the purpose of Jazz's point. He knew Prowl was trying to latch onto the more analytical side of his explanation, and that was all the more example of why Jazz's idea was worth pursuing.

Still, until then, the TIC had other matters. "We good for now? 'Cause even though this is a half shift, it's now half-over. I haven't actually checked my work queue box, so I may or may not having something to do while I wait for the meeting. That 'I've got nothing to do' is a bit of an assumption."

"There's always something for you to do. I counted 58 reports assigned to you as the start of this shift, and that's only for what's on the traceable servers. I know Blaster has been monitoring your other servers, and while I haven't seen or heard any concerns, his lack of 'I can't believe how quiet it is in XOps' declarations when bringing me reports suggest you have plenty waiting on you. I suppose with your 'office smarts,' you're taking any open-ended or distant deadlines as a sign of no work for now."

"You're just jealous I know how to space-out and level-set my workload to minimize both boredom and burden, without being the bottleneck either."

"Don't even try restarting that debate. If there's nothing you identify as a need to work now, then there's reports waiting on someone in Command to reassign or resolve them. Since Ironhide is out, perhaps you can?"

He flopped in his chair, mostly in good humor. "Aw, that's the last time I say something like that. Better leave now before you add something else."

"Now that you mention it…"

"Bye!" Jazz hopped the chair, half-darted over the desk to steal a brief kiss, and jogged the few paces out the door with a barely finished, "Don't waste my efforts; finish that cube!"

Prowl's optics lingered on the door, the surprise tingling on his lips fading fast. ' _As if_ I'm _the one who wastes your efforts_ ,' he muttered, fixating on the easiest part to process Jazz's fast escape.

He considered briefly reassigning some of the improper reports to Jazz just to give the mech something to keep his mind off of whatever was driving him to talk more, but the last time Prowl did that he found out (much later) that Jazz had decided to entertain himself in unregulated and even noncompliant manners.

One specific incident that caught his attention also became infamous on a handful of bases. Prowl had reassigned a number of nuisance reports to Jazz because Prowl could no longer waste time on berating mechs through report rejections. Inside the nuisance pile was a report asking for extra polish on some base had _somehow_ been routed to him. How thatgot routed all the way up to the Autobot SIC Prowl never confirmed, but he suspected an overreaching rubberstamp policy all throughout that particular command chain. He left a tiny Command-internal note when he handed it off.

Jazz finished the report handling by sending it back with fifty digital top layers mocked up to look like close ups of fifty different over-shined mechs, with an animated text on each layer reading, "Shinny enough for you?" After all fifty layers were unlocked and removed, the former taking a while because Jazz converted each layer's lock into riddles regarding regulations, was a rejection tag. Its justification included a half-concealed foreboding explanation about not wasting Autobot General Army Command's efforts because reading was too hard, or the war-front- and base- officers could donate their own polish bottles because they wouldn't need it anymore. At least the bases associated with that war-front seemed to have corrected whatever oversight allowed the error. Still, as a mech known for being almost unrivaled in dedication to rigidly enforcing rules, Prowl couldn't allow Jazz to do that again.

Not through traceable channels, anyways.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _For anyone wondering about Springer's "size-bias," it's a ref to a scene in_ All Hail Megatron _._


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N:_**

 _FYI, when the tac-set AI is speaking, I'm using ellipses for shortening it, since chapter 1 gave enough communication framing. Prowl would still be hearing all of it, but I imagine that vast majority of you don't want to read it all :)_

 _The efforts to extend the base are not efforts for turning it into the Autobot City. I'm not trying to move the story toward the original Transformers movie, because doing that would make this ultimately incredibly sad._

 _PPE = Personal protective equipment. Masks, knee guards, etc._

* * *

When the danger-rated reports were completed or as processed as possible for the moment, and enough of the other reports were finished to prove an effective productivity, the SIC resumed his on-going work with the elevated report. The report fell under Project EARTH-0084, but most called it "Autobot Suburban Sprawl." That name usually had Prowl catching the tip of his glossa from automatically calling out its inaccuracy, as Prowl still remembered the suburbia of a preserved Praxus. He stayed quiet and allowed others to fancy the idea because it kept the masses in good spirits and out of (most) trouble.

This particular report was about the carving out another section of the volcano and reinforcing it for more soldier quarters. There was already thirty completed and currently undergoing inspections, but they intended to continue building until there were fifty new double-bunked soldier quarters. The _Ark_ would never fly again, unless the Autobots managed to overtake key Decepticon territories. Once it was accepted to be an extreme improbability of repairing for flight, they began working on converting the ship an actual base by using the _Ark_ as an important integral.

Bulkheads and rooms too crushed for use were being recycled, either as repurposed parts or reclaimed materials. Volcanic substances were combined with other chemicals for sturdy walls, once Autobot structural engineering and construction eliminated the porosity issues. There wasn't enough of recycled bulkheads, furniture, rooms, etc. and volcano to finish the job alone, but it was a strong start.

Various goods from around the world were used as well. Regardless of their purposes, not all were easily obtained by or provided to the Autobots. Being "the good aliens" who were the only ones able to fully defend against "the bad aliens" only went so far in Autobot-Earth relations. Some countries and companies were easily persuaded to assist them through monetary, bartering, or serviceable agreements, and that closed almost all the gaps remaining for the Autobots to rebuild and grow. Obtaining a consistent source of the rest were still on-going efforts, and why Prime's meeting was overrunning.

Optimus worked almost constantly on formalizing relationships in the matters of legal, finance, trade, and standardizing regulations. Jazz, Blaster, and a few others assisted in the matter. One of those few others turned out to be Sideswipe, who had a better knack for negotiations and financing then realized by Command. Prowl knew Sideswipe's past included the skillset but clearly his records undersold the extent of said skillset.

Prowl voluntarily remained out of sight for the humans in these matters. There was plenty to do in the shadows. The newest studies on preventing seismic or volcanic activity completed, submitted, and accepted, they were almost ready to start the building expansion until they did a supplies count. Turned out that the Autobots were going through demolition supplies faster than Prowl planned.

At the three-breem warning for departing to his appointment with Ratchet, Prowl closed out the report with final touches and his authorization signature. He considered whether or not to bring some of his work with him to Ratchet's, just in case. [[How much work for me specifically is still open? Lump by Priority Tier. What's the projection on working with Ratchet over administrative concerns, and whether I'll be able to do any work while he works?]]

[[User initiated action, query-type command… return: one Tier 1, three Tier 2, 183 Tier 3. Subroutine 'db_results_int_09844' status: complete, no error returns...]]

' _Well that's discouraging._ ' Prowl loathed to leave his desk, considering working with Ratchet over a commlink and screen rather than face-to-face.

[[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type…]]

The unexpected AI activity caught Prowl enough by surprise he didn't get a chance to ask before it came back with a response. [[AI Barricade recommendation over course of action: do not work remotely with Ratchet. Barricade recommends Prowl work remotely on tactical reports while traveling and inside Medbay. With forecasted schedule fluctuations, calculated enemy activity, and adding schedule buffers with increased periods of uninterrupted work will allow a burndown of total work in 3 to 5 deca-orns. The 3 deca-orns requires workload offloading onto other tactical-capable personnel and a quick completion for each delegated work; the 5 deca-orns include investigations and potential battle over enemy intentions. Barricade will provide list of reports capable of being handed off to Smokescreen and Trailbreaker.]]

Prowl's doorwing joints were suddenly heavier as his doorwings involuntarily drooped down and back, but his attention was stolen back inside his helm when the AI went on about its attack plan of getting his datapads, reports, battles – everything – under control again. Despite the "conversation" happening over a few split-kliks, it felt like forever when it finally ended with how it projected the end of the orn and the start of the next. [[Statistical probability of orn's target completion count with enough recharge to maintain Prowl's critical energy levels, based on forecasted energy expenditures and refueling intentions: 97.4761%.]]

' _And what if –_ ' he began before abruptly ceasing his worrying. Even he knew the chances of battles, emergencies, or something of like nature, were naught for now. Decepticons may have little administrative oversight that'd slow down an attack, given their simplistic nature of "kill, conquer, or steal" attitude, but Jazz's team's unorthodox methods of adapting to the surprise Decepticon discovery including tricking a drinking Decepticon into ruining their only copies of information and specialized tools, contained to a box and a dataslug. Said tricked Decepticon's reaction suggested Decepticon Command wouldn't find out for at least half a deca-orn.

Prowl selected the data reports to be downloaded across 2 datapads, separated by classification, and then he disconnecting himself from the terminal while waiting for the data transfer on the pads to be completed. From the back of the chair pushing against his doorwings he realized his doorwings were still sitting at slightly lower angle than normal.

Out of nowhere Prowl heard Jazz's voice in his head. ' _Shake off those droopy doorwings!_ '

Prowl rubbed the inner corners of his optics. ' _I'm spending too much time with Jazz,_ ' he gathered, both from the unsolicited imaginary words and the memory of Jazz declaring Prowl's doorwings "too sad" and in need of cheering.

If he was going to work late enough to gamble with recharging the bare minimum before his next official shift start, then it was worth considering the new beta-test "coffee energon." Prowl knew he'd be cutting it close to his appointment with Ratchet, but he could make it if he moved quickly, quietly, and kept his optics down on a report.

With the last of the reports being downloaded he grabbed his desk cleaner and quickly cleared the surfaces. When the terminal signaled the transfer complete, he locked it down, gathered the two datapads, and locked his office.

He moved the hallways, using his doorwings more so than his optics as he worked on the datapads. Whenever his doorwings picked up someone glancing at him he'd tap a datapad several times as if there was something unhappy on it.

He entered the hallway forking off of the one to the Rec Room, where a second path didn't used to exist. This one cut through recently-gutted ship internals and the hull. Storage units now lined the hallway leading to the smaller and quieter refueling area. The hallway was still under construction but only missing skin panels for those areas where the wiring hadn't been inspect yet. The room lacked a television and entertainment sound system, contained 25 seats, and the lights were relatively low. There'd be talks about adding an adjacent room for napping for those on call, after it was pointed out the quarters were already somewhat too far away for increased danger alerts and longer shifts, and the new quarters were sprawling further out into the back.

When Prowl entered he noticed the only occupants were Red Alert and Inferno, the latter having his back to the entryway. Red glanced up at him and nodded curtly before continuing his quiet private conversation with Inferno. His efforts to maintain a private conversation were temporarily rendered futile when Inferno glanced back and offered a warm, "Hey, Prowl! Glad to see you out of your office on time. Set an example for Red." Red Alert shot Inferno a withered look, but the pair's conversation continued and Prowl respectfully dialed down his sensors so he couldn't pick it up.

He approached the pair of normal energon dispensers, now grouped with a new neighbor. The newest dispenser was smaller with a heater attached, with the label "Coff-E." The energon looked like blacken sludge but with the consistency of running water. Prowl stared at it, reconsidering his idea.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you!"

Prowl glanced back at Inferno, now watching him. "Why?"

"Red had a teeny tiny bit and was jumping tables to see if he could stick his camera to the wall without needing me or a ladder."

"Was not!" the security director protested.

"Okay, how about _hopping_ tables?" Inferno angled his body so he could look at the other two habitants easier.

"It was _a small_ jump from one table, and the high lasted about as long as the jump. I did at least stick the camera correctly." Red pointed at a camera in the corner farthest from the hallway, next to a freshly-installed panel.

"Yeah, but I still had to grab a chair to finish the wiring."

"I wanted to make sure it was in the right spot while you grabbed the wiring tools," Red Alert protested, refusing to yield. He turned to Prowl. "I literally had a sip. Wheeljack had since 'watered' it down, which he has yet to explain what that means because there's no water. I'd lock up the dispenser until Perceptor verifies its safe, but Ferno here won't allow me to leave until he's certain I won't get carried away again once I get to my locks."

Red Alert paused enough to frown and narrow his optics at Inferno. "So until then, I guess anyone can drink at their own risk. So go ahead if you want to act at your own health's risk, because that's what I'm being forced to being on standby and witness."

"No one's had anything yet."

"Until maybe now, and now means I might have to watch Prowl risk his own health - "

"Like _that's_ a rare occurrence."

" - except Prowl's risks are risks to Autobot operations, so Prowl please don't drink it."

Prowl glanced at the questionable substance, at the camera, at the pair, and then back to the energon. He really didn't want to work at pace that'd force him to have the barest minimum of recharge.

[[New AI initiated action... test coffee with smallest cup. Approximately 2.5922% of negative impact occurring before visit to Ratchet. If negative symptoms occur, 84.0013% chance they'll occur in Medbay. Approximate value if energon works as intended: temporary increase in proficiency rate, up to estimated 10%.]]

Prowl sighed, willing his bravery as he reached for the cups they kept in the cupboards. These were "test size" energon cubes.

"Oh, come on, Prowl," Red bemoaned as he saw Prowl go for the cups. "Please don't."

"I'm on my way to Ratchet. I promise to drink this slowly, if I drink anything past the first sip." He finally found a tiny yellow cup with a single black strip. He was pretty sure he knew who made this.

[[New AI initiated action...]]

[[Return to standby.]] He delicately balanced the cup in his hand, filling it 2/3rds of the way. Very slowly he sipped it, ready by the disposal bin in case it was a mistake.

" _Nooo_ , he's drinking it," Red Alert moaned. "Now I have to follow him to Ratchet's and then back out."

"Don't you dare," Inferno scolded, his grin instantly vanishing.

Prowl paid them little heed, noticing that it lacked taste and when he swallowed there was only a faintly unpleasant aftertaste of charred minerals. He sipped it again.

"No, don't. Please stop," Red begged, Inferno's hand now moved into place to hold him down.

"Red, Jack cut the potency down in half, if not more. He ran a bunch of tests on volunteers and no one ended up sick before you had a sip, and he had a test sample to make sure afterwards. He's fine. Prowl's fine."

" _You_ didn't have Coff-E jitters. Wheeljack's first set of beta-tests were on some of our quietest and calmest troops, using a highly diluted sample. Do you have any idea what Coff-E jitters are like?!"

"Prowl isn't, ah, as at risk to jitters as you," Inferno awkwardly pointed out, trying to keep his face straight.

Red protested that statement while Prowl finished the energon and placed the cup in the sanitizer rack. "I must leave. If it'll make your lives easier, I shall comm. both of you when I reach Medbay."

"Yes! If I can't follow you, then I'm timing you until I have or expect to have that message."

"Thanks, Prowl. I and my off-duty plans would appreciate that," Inferno said in gratitude over his shoulder while his arm remained straight out, physically holding the displeased mech across from him in place.

Prowl began his trek back out and towards Medbay. He was only a few steps into the hallway when he heard Inferno's indignant snap, "You put that security datapad away! You are _not_ remotely following him while we're talking."

About halfway to the Medbay he felt a perk in his energy levels and his steps were automatically quickening. He glanced about the hallway and forced his pace to return to his original fast pace as he got a few concerned looks his way. He looked back to his datapad and noticed how his reading speed improved to a level similar to one early in his shift.

[[New AI initiated action ... Performance update: Coff-E sample increasing operating speed 6.7802%. Barricade recommends requesting Wheeljack add a potency variance dial on the coffee to achieve a performance level and duration as needed.]]

He sent a message to both mechs as promised just as he stepped through the Medbay door. His optics found Ratchet's office with the privacy frosting activated on the windows, indicating that the CMO was most likely in there. He knocked and received a call to enter.

The door opened and Prowl stepped in to see Ratchet staring intently at one of the many disheveled datapads, two already fallen onto the ground. "These requests are making my helm hurt," the CMO grumbled.

"Are those the training requests?"

Ratchet held up one and pointed to another. "Yeah. Rest is medical." Most medical work was kept on datapads instead of syncing up with _Teletraan_.

"I don't know how you do this," Ratchet complained, rubbing the bottom half of his chevron. "I could always use one or two more medics and the more I train the better confidence I have of the Autobots surviving the war. But then where do I pull the medics, how do I pull them, and when? This is how I might finish going mad. I thought it would be the combined work of the Twins, Minibots, Hide, Jack, Optimus, and recently I thought even you would be the final nail, but no; it'll be staffing datawork."

An audible straining noise coming from the datapad's screen was caught by both, emitting from right underneath one of Ratchet's hands. He huffed but released his grip to flip it such that Prowl could see the screen. Ratchet tapped one name. "This one is a good candidate because he could become a lead doctor on a bigger and more active base, but there's only one other medic with him and that one only transitioned into medical care about 100 vorns ago."

"Have you thought about a medical rotation through the non-critical bases and fields? When you've sufficiently trained those, you can rotate them into critical positions and put overworked doctors into positions with less stressful environments. It'll allow a reprieve that I've come to know from you is necessary – "

Ratchet's optics narrowed.

"– while letting them provide their experience to train those still too early in their training to rotate. When the experience medics get here then you can trade experiences. Surely there's something you can learn. The universe offers an infinite number of possible encounters and ways for them to go wrong."

"Oh good Primus, that sounds like so much work," he moaned while rubbing his face. The sounds of a datapad under duress returned.

Prowl slowly counted to five before offering a solution he knew could turn regrettable. "How about I assist you now on finding a solution to the doctor you're focused on now, and then we set up recurring staffing meeting between us? Before the end of the deca-orn, perhaps?" Their standard Command Officers meeting were at the end of each deca-orn.

"Deal!" Ratchet instantly seized the offer before Prowl finished his last word.

"My deca-orn is quite full but I'll make time somewhere. I can't promise it'll always accommodate our own local shift rotations, but we can always try that Coff-E."

Ratchet bit back the snarky comment about Prowl's deca-orn being described only as "quite full" instead of the overflowing mound he knew it to be. His lips curled back at the mention of Coff-E. "I cannot believe you like that stuff. Taste like stale slag and had Red doing jumping jacks, or so I've heard. I better not catch you drinking that in place of regular energon. You fuel too little on your own, and that stuff is meant to be used between refueling as a quick, irregular pick-me-up. Like meetings scheduled way too early," had added with a pointed glare.

Prowl ignored the barb. "I found the taste to be bland with only a hint of charred metal scrap. Red Alert claims it was a single jump because he didn't want to wait for assistance to reach a corner. I can tolerate the taste and handle the effects better than Red Alert."

"Fine, but stop by Medbay if you have more than two cups within one online period. No one's tested more than that. If you're going to play it risky with Jack's energon concoctions, I'd prefer you do it during other medical mechs' schedules, or during the time blocks on my schedule marked as 'free'."

"Your schedule is never free, but I'll try to plan my questionable experiments around the 'do not disturb' blocks."

Ratchet snorted. "Neither one of use has free schedules. Like I said, I could use another medic, and not just because it's looking like we'll have a 33% headcount increase before we're done carving up the insides of the mountain. It's time-consuming to get volcanic debris out of unprotected joints and seams. Jack's been making PPE as fast as he can, but the downside to off-duty volunteers is he can't make it fast enough. We've also had a sudden repeat problem of rivets appearing in body parts they don't belong in. We've had 4 Autobots rivet themselves to the new walls, claiming the cause in accidents is the shifting grounds. Percy and Grapple says that's hot slag because the latest seismic analysis is done. Someone left a request on Jazz's server to look into it, and he came by. Based on the injured, in name and damage patterns, some of the markings he found at the sites, the injured's volunteer partners, he suspects that the dumbafts are playing a cross between 'dodge ball' and 'Russian roulette' with the riveting guns. Mirage is supposed to scout it out on his next shift."

"That kind of possibility only causes me to ask why the Decepticons haven't pulverized us yet," Prowl drily commented.

"The backstabbing and dominatrix-session-gone-bad nature of their command chains helps, but it's probably more of their general troops screwing each other for more energon, creds, and rank. I don't know, ask a psych sometime between their evaluations of Berserker #4555 and Paranoid #5444." Ratchet shrugged.

"How humorous that you think the debilitating paranoia cases only tallies up to 5,444," Prowl retorted completely deadpan. He felt no amusement in the matter, but he took his cues from how others approached Red Alert's condition. Either frustration or humor, and Prowl wasn't about to mimic frustration around Ratchet. Reality of the matter was he was keenly aware of those numbers because of its associated tactical statistics and probabilities of sustainable bases.

"When did I say new evaluations instead of re-evaluating? Don't sass me, Prowl. You'll never win."

"My apologies."

"But it can't be all the Decepticon's own undoing that keeps us alive and kicking," Ratchet commented, backtracking the conversation somewhat. "I'd like to think my tough love has something to do with it. Plus there's Prime's command style and your tac-set. Speaking of which, how's it handling? I hear it's about to get its first real challenge since the full restart, deciphering whatever the Pit Jazz stumbled acrossed – and almost _into_ ," Ratchet asked, setting aside his datapad and brushing the rest to the desk edges for a clear space.

"I've already tasked over the breakdown of the reports. The tac-set handled it the same as it has been handling everything else. I've kept up First Aid and Perceptor on it, just as requested, during my spark checkups."

Ratchet shifted his seated weight slightly at the reminder. "They've given me their reports and observations after each check, and just now I got reminded again. Perceptor was – as far as I'm concerned – overly prepared for me showing up to make his case." He settled the datapad on the center of his desk and swept his hands in the air along the datapad as if presenting something novel. "Show me how to work your magic, oh Great Wizard of the Staffing Admin Lands."

The pair worked together for over a joor on how to get the first doctor to catch Ratchet's optic to the _Ark_ for training, while also setting up the beginning stages of the medical position rotations. A couple of times Prowl almost comm'ed Jazz but refused to need help like a sparkling on his second orn of lessons. As far as Prowl could tell, Ratchet wasn't further out of sorts since his arrival.

At half-past the first joor, Prowl felt the tingles of a helmache, although it wasn't the typical type. Absently he touched his forehelm while he tried diagnosing it.

"Don't tell me I've already given you a helmache," Ratchet demanded when he saw the hand move.

"No, I have a strange helmache forming."

"Maybe it's the Coff-E? Or maybe it's the tac-set?" Ratchet frowned. "You mentioned already working on those reports for Jazz's mission. Perhaps there's a relay or code having trouble that you haven't used recently." The CMO pointed to Prowl's hand. "You're touching a spot near one tac-set driver component."

The tactician dropped his hand. "The AI hasn't alerted me to any concerns."

[[User initiated action …]]

"If anything," Prowl slowly verbalized at the impromptu query, "my tac-set has been overly using its codes and relays."

"Come again?" Ratchet resisted the urge to grab Prowl by his chin and hold him in place while testing for signs of heat permeating beyond its housing.

"It keeps pulling itself out of standby."

"How long has _that_ being going on?" Ratchet automatically switched modes, dropping his datapad the small distance onto the desk. "The new codes and safety parameters we installed eight mega-orns ago should make that extra impossible."

"In the last few mega-orns it's become more active in tasking itself rather than waiting on me. The end of last orn was the first time in about one mega-orn since I've actual ordered it on standby." Prowl kept the timeframes as generic as he could, minimizing chances of Ratchet realizing the standby efforts were tied to Jazz in a not-strictly-professional way.

He couldn't avoid the part about the sudden change being so fresh and the obvious timing tied to Jazz. Ratchet heard him demand Jazz open his door. Instead he tried to mitigate the potential of discovery or suspicion. "My tac-set kept attempting to calculate odds on Jazz in the post-mission and his response to the reports. Eventually I executed a standby command and opted to work with the less technical reports. Since I started this shift, it has come out of standby several times."

Ratchet pushed his chair back to use it for sliding across the room to a cabinet. He unlocked it and pulled out a datapad. "Let's go," Ratchet motioned for Prowl to standup even as he did. "I don't like it when programs start mutating or violating safety protocols."

Still clutching his own datapads, Prowl followed Ratchet out the door, the CMO pausing briefly to issue a de-frost command so any visitors would see an empty office. The office automatically locked the door and darkened all electronic screens behind Ratchet, a measure added because the nature of Ratchet's responsibilities didn't always come with a warning.

They headed to the temporary medical booth for processor and coding related exams. The back wall wasn't visible and from the way the covers moved, Prowl suspected the back wall was missing. "Don't tell me that plans to expand the Medbay are already underway. They aren't scheduled yet, and I haven't authorized it. I haven't see anything asking to authorizing it ahead of schedule, either."

Ratchet shrugged. "Maybe the request got lost in the mail. Ah well, too late. Some of my frequent patients got carried away with suggestions on making Medbay more comfortable and capable."

"Wha – no. Excuse me?" Prowl sputtered, along with a string of half-formed protests, reprimands, and regulation citations.

"We need to get the Medbay decently sized for the new incoming headcounts. You can't just have more soldier quarters. Not enough Autobots have training in avoiding being stepped on by Combiners. What happens if Bruticus and Menasor trap a bunch of untrained Autobots?"

"I'd like to think we can avoid two giant Cybertronians surprising us out of nowhere and trapping a bunch of our soldiers like inbred turbofoxes," Prowl snipped, his irk at the insinuated failure seeping past his filters.

Ratchet scoffed. "You say destruction-preventative planning, I say 'oh slag!' planning. I am responsible more for dealing with the fallout or rectifying stupidity. _Sadly,_ most of my patients aren't here because they need their annual tune up. Like for example, you. Right here, right now. Now hop up."

As he moved onto the heavily-wired medical berth, Prowl muttered almost snidely, "You're not the only one involved in contingency and recovery planning."

Ratchet considered ignoring Prowl, but couldn't bring himself to do it. "Your responsibilities don't include Medbay, other than finding ways to keep the number in-bound patients down to nearly zero."

"My planning requires knowing what's on-going and what's available. While true that tactical shouldn't be planning Medbay activities or devising its recovery plans, knowing the full set of risks are important. You know I can't always build plans with a 95% chance that 95% of mechs won't need repairs beyond what self-repair can correct." Prowl tried keeping the displeasure out of his voice, still not quite used to being forced to "experience" emotions.

He modified the emotional filter settings to filter out as much emotion as possible, but Ratchet's and Perceptor's module didn't allow him to completely snuff it out. He tacked onto his point, but internally so not to start a fight right before a medical checkup with a medic, ' _You should know better, that type of injury or deactivation prevention is not even close to a possibility. Do not pretend you don't know what it's like to be forced to pick working on one patient because there's two or more patients in bad shape but you can only try saving one._ '

Granted, being forced to pick which of two dying mechs had the best chance of survival wasn't the same as planning a mission that barely made the goal of keeping it from being classified as a suicide mission. Jazz seemed to be the only Command Officer able to understand it, but it still repeatedly came to Prowl's attention that no one could understand that, except mechs who put their lives on the line for those missions. It was making him uncomfortable more so ever since Medical decided to go ahead with their repairs to his almost-lifelong-dead emotional center, because even trying to cut out all emotions since said repairs he still found himself struggling more. Yet he didn't have grounds to insist the repairs being a wrongdoing because the repairs happened while they were trying to save his life.

So he struggled in silence. Luckily it hadn't been too much disruptive distress, prior to Jazz's departure, as the combat-related and mission-related plans were minimal and nowhere near that suicide mission threshold. He kept what struggles he had silent even around Jazz, in part because he knew he'd been difficult for Jazz in the past and he was at a loss at how to broach the subject to a mech he'd inadvertently hurt by being emotionally detached.

Then he learned a simple training mission was disrupted with almost no intel about what had happened. He tried building plans with what little Jazz had been able to send, but the suddenness of the change, the dangers, vast number of unknowns, and inability to communicate left him internally dealing with experiencing an all-around feeling of uselessness beyond tactical frustration.

 _Blaster entered his office as if trying to pass through his door, almost at the exact moment Prowl received multiple urgent pings. "Prowl, something's happened with Jazz's team. The training mission turned into a real mission, but we don't have more details beyond a quick comm."_

No! He didn't want to dwell on remembering learning about it, becoming borderline flustered with heated energon lines as he tried solving matters. Especially not now with Jazz back. Right now all he needed to focus on was addressing the tac-set's changes since Jazz returned. He also needed to address Medbay's construction additions without an authorization request. "Just make sure someone sends me something regarding the construction in here before my next shift."

"Sure. Maybe Sideswipe. He gave me some troubles earlier and he's the one cackling on about building himself and Sunny a shared permanent Medbay suite. Now, just lay there quietly while I try debugging the tac-set."

[[Barricade is not bugged.]]

Ratchet was hooked cables to Prowl's helm, two ports, and below his cortex. His attention was split between the cables and the computer.

"Ratchet, the tac-set just responded to your 'debug' statement. In a rather mech-like way."

Ratchet's helm snapped to Prowl. "Come again? What does that mean?"

"It - Barricade - responded to you that it's not bugged," Prowl clarified. "Barricade does seem to be changing rapidly. Growing in such a manner that it gives the impression of having a mech always with me. Almost like Barricade is trying to talk for me, perhaps. Strange."

Ratchet studied the screen carefully, using his finger to slowly scroll through the screen. Each time he tapped something his frown deepened. A few times Prowl felt medical test programs pinging testing his systems. Just as Prowl was about to demand something besides a silently frowning bedside manner, Ratchet finally started speaking. His words were slow and between a few pauses. "Prowl, I think we should turn off your tac-set for a joor."

Prowl's doorwings shot straight up so fast he felt a twinge in his joints. "Absolutely not. How can you even suggest that?"

"I'm suggesting it because of what you said, the questionable results from my poking around, and because while waiting on a few code tests I read a couple of Aid's and Percy's notations about a few tac-set oddities."

"'Questionable results?'" Prowl echoed. "Unless you're about to tell me these questionable results are indicative of a catastrophic failure that can only be resolved by a full shutdown, I'm not allowing it."

"Look," Ratchet started matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and squaring his torso at Prowl.

"No, you need to reconsider your advice," Prowl countered immediately. "Up until eight mega-orns ago, you've never been able to fully shut it off. So long as my processor power cortex wasn't totally de-energized, the tac-set wasn't completely off. There's never been a push to shut it off separately because it's always needed to be ready at a thousandth-of-a-klik's notice for emergencies, and it's never been a danger to my health.

"The only reason you had Jazz and Perceptor force a full shut off eight mega-orns ago was because you were afraid it'd negatively impact me survival chances onlining for the first time after near spark termination. I'm online, as close to death as you are right now inside an inactive volcano in mid-conversion into a base, and my earlier helmache is already diminishing. I _will not_ put anyone at risk by doing the unthinkable on a war front. One with almost the entire Decepticon Command, no less."

Ratchet's hand almost slapped on one of the machine surfaces. "Damn it, Prowl. Stop deflecting. Time for some hard truths. Do you know what I read and hear when I heard you talk about this 'Barricade'? Here's what I read: irregular tac-set activity spikes every time you said 'Barricade' or when your tac-set included the name in my tests just now. When I pushed for purging 'Barricade' from its database I saw code indicators of battle aggression. The kind that matches some of the fragment activity logs Perceptor downloaded when we were piecing you back together - _particularly the parts time stamped to match its attack on Sideswipe._ Perceptor's code had seemingly eliminated that when we finally booted it back up. Maybe repeating that will purge the bad code, or maybe it's only half a solution. I won't know until I try.

"But you know what? I'm not concerned with just that. I'm also concerned with what I'm hearing and seeing. I hear you headed right back into the same behavior that caused you to abandon yourself to serve Tactical like a walking frame to mobilize a tac-set, instead of being a mech with a mobilized tac-set. That attitude literally almost destroyed your spark. You deliberately drowned out the warning signs of your own spark so it wouldn't interrupt your tac-set or your comfort in letting it have control because Primus forbid you have to feel like a mech with a spark. I hate to break it to you, but _you_ are that spark; _you_ are not that tac-set. I am _trying_ to be nice because it is too difficult to watch you slowly die again."

Ratchet snapped his neck and helm back to screen, forcing himself to take a moment and calm down after ranting at another self-sacrificing mech continually ignore medical concerns until they fulfilled their unintended (sometimes intended) self-destruction. He cycled his vents upon realizing his fingers grasping the corners of the machine's surface were shaking from a dent-worthy tight grasp.

"Oh…" Prowl quietly replied after watching Ratchet until his vents were quieter. "But I can't risk Autobot safety. Even though Barr – _I've_ calculated less than an 8% chance of Decepticon activity this orn, I can't take that chance."

Ratchet almost growled but he focused on trying to find a point that'd at least close the gap between medical necessity and Prowl's refusal. "Alright, fine. How about this: while you still very much need to have it off for a joor so we can make sure everything is corrected, uploaded, and protected so it properly purges bad code, things may be slightly improved if we shut it down for 10 breems. Forcefully stop any running bad code, and let me load a quick program to clear some of the caches. Give your components a chance to cool down, too. And maybe, just _maybe¸_ you can take those 10 breems to remember to be a mech."

Prowl silently staring at Ratchet, a tightness in his spark and the subsequent guilt feeling he was learning washing through him as he thought how he still hadn't come up with a solution to undo some of the damage he'd done by lying to Ratchet for several deca-orns. Jazz offered a few small solutions but they only made some headway is reducing tension in _other_ subjects.

[[Barricade recommends: rejecting unnecessary medical procedure. Risks associated to Prowl's work schedule and Autobot safety.]]

[[I don't need a list of risks. I already started arguing them, but Ratchet's points aren't without merit.]]

[[Query: counter points to Ratchet's arguments…]]

[[No,]] Prowl interrupted, not letting it getting away with taking it upon itself to decide his medical wellbeing. He almost gave it a new command but then it dawned on him exactly what was happening. [[What's more important: the tac-set's continual function or my capability to function?]]

Prowl swore the AI hesitated. [[Barricade's continual function is critically impacted by a mobile frame and source of energy, capable of integrating with AIs on isolated computers, decipher value of antidotal notes in reports from Autobots, and to direct Autobots through mech-relatable methods. Prowl is vital to tac-set functionality. The tac-set's continual function and Prowl's capability to function are equally important and too integrated for one to exist with the other crippled or missing.]]

Prowl was willing to accept that statement. It didn't resolve the issue with the AI acting abnormal, and he had new concerns from Ratchet's remark about new changes pointing to a time the AI managed to continually override Prowl's control of his own frame. There was some assurance in the unlikeliness of that happening again, but was it enough?

[[Barricade also requires Prowl to process the inefficiency of Cybertronians and turn them into something Barricade can manipulate and calculate efficiently.]]

All of Prowl's musings came to a screeching halt. [[Are you ultimately telling me I'm important because I move and can provide supplemental support to the tac-set manipulating others?]]

[[Yes. Example: Bluestreak's emotional needs and redirecting them on the battlefront, with specific sniper targets.]]

Prowl was willing to allow the tac-set to list him as an asset, but not Bluestreak. "Ratchet, could you set up a system to purge the bad codes, empty all but schedule-related and reports-related caches, with the tac-set shut completely down for only 5 breems?"

Ratchet entire upper frame sank backwards from relief relaxing his stiff pose. "We can try. Lay back down so I can drop you into temporary stasis. I'll be reducing the power to your processor cortex first, connecting at least one more processor-related cable, and then shutting off the tac-set. When my diagnostic equipment can verify that the tac-set is truly off, I'll bring you back online."


	4. Chapter 4

When he felt the reboot process onlining his system, Prowl immediately noticed the faster boot cycle and instinctively sent a query to both his self-repair systems and his tac-set. One went unanswered and the other reminded him his tac-set was off. He powered on his optics and looked into the tilted face of a leaning Ratchet.

"So… now what?" Prowl asked, feeling almost distressingly naïve about how to approach the situation, suddenly remembering what it was like to have all other sources of "talk" inside his helm silenced. He rolled his body into a more attentive sitting position, forcing Ratchet to step back. Once sitting, Prowl rotated his neck around to dispel the growing discomfort inside his helm, only to feel small tugs on the outside of his helm. Ratchet's patient pawed a little at the cables connecting to the back of his cerebral cortex and to the side of helm by the tac-set, as if they were suddenly announcing themselves by itching his plating.

The CMO replied with a ' _pfffht_ ' and stopped Prowl's hand from touching the cables further. "The one on the side is a backup, for monitoring activity. It should read zero on everything but temperature, and that should soon read temperatures expected of a normal processor's range." He tapped the screen. "So far that's all true and it'll set off alarms if that's no longer true.

"The other cable is doing its job. I'm not elaborating on 'how' since I don't want the AI to find out the 'how' through you, and use that to build its own code or tac-set/processor interface protocols as countermeasures."

"Understood. That's why you, your team, and Jazz have never explained the first fix to me," Prowl murmured, looking at his hands and trying to figure out what to do with them if he wasn't allowed to investigate the cables. Normally if he was in Medbay and not allowed to hold reports or puzzles, he wouldn't have a second thought over leaving his hands on his lap or by his sides, as if on standby for work.

Now his hands felt foreign. Hands do things, but what did they do without a tac-set needing their assistance, or him needing them while playing puzzle games or doing very private activities? What did he do with them last time his tac-set was completely offline? Besides his brothers smushing a bowl of energon goodies in his hands since they stuck him in the middle every time for movies, or when he stole reports to work on them for Jazz.

"Jazz's knowledge on the matter is more hack-related than medical-related." Ratchet trailed off for a klik before wirily adding, "I'm not sure which is more problematic of the tac-set getting leaked info on how we contained it."

"Jazz talked Barr - _it_ down so the program could be downloaded. It and I know that."

"A vital first step, but technically his role was only the first step that one time. I'm not trying to under credit Jazz, but there's no Pitting way I want his role to be something beyond that one-time first step. If we need him, need to credit him anything else, then things have gone very wrong. Now stop asking questions it might use against us to prevent shutting it completely offline again, if this measly 5 breem break doesn't work."

"'Pitting?' Are you using the noun for Unicron's lair as a verb now?" Prowl asked and Ratchet responded with only a smirk.

Prowl ex-vented. "Fine, as you insist I'll drop my questions. For now I'll... perhaps we could… what happens now?" Prowl huffed and dropped his hands, inadvertently placing them a pleading fashion. He immediately rectified the pose by curling them back and together, neatly into his lap.

From his own ultra-high optic resolution, Ratchet closely watched Prowl's body language, but his primary anchor of focus was on Prowl's optics, searching for clues on Prowl's state. A mech like Prowl was least guarded in his optics when his own defenses and countermeasures were eliminated. To any mech with standard optics Prowl's optics looked like a solid icy blue. Most Cybertronians had optics with a fairly thick outer lens, with just enough opaque material to obscure 80-90% of the movements of the inner optic workings. Less transparent optics were available but in general replacing the optic lens was harder. Plus inner optic workings were more sensitive and also harder to procure. With Command that was moderately less difficult, given that roughly 2/3rds of Command wanted to reduce transparency as close to zero as possible. Where Jazz used multi-function visors, Prowl went with specially-tinted and denser outer optic lens. The denser material and particular shade of blue gave him an icy appearance. Ironhide and Red Alert address their concerns with a similar methodology to Prowl's, but with different approaches and different appearances.

Ratchet's optics were different, given that medics worked on entirely different principles where the emphasis wasn't on block their own optics from others' observations, but their own optics being able to see beyond others' blocks. At this range he could easily see past Prowl's main defense and observe the inner optic movements. The sharp edge and short precise movements that came with the tac-set's activities was completely lost, replacing Prowl's second defense with soft confusion. Ratchet observed subtle lens changes reminiscent of an amnesia mech trying to take in information and remember who they were. Changes that kept going from wide to narrow as they slowly swept the room and equipment. They settled on the back wall's covers, tightly covered to prevent any debris escaping into the area. They traced the contours of missing wall sections, beneath that cover.

Ratchet referenced back to his other concern for Prowl, but this time much carefully with the intent of broadcasting care by kindness instead of care by chewing out his stubbornness. "Now that there's not a possible interruption from the tac-set, you should take the four-and-a-half-plus breems to think about _personal_ interests. Personal concerns. Whatever is too 'mech' for the tac-set to not pester you about it, I suppose." He added a small shrug. "You'd know better than me what it's been giving you grief over."

Those optics moved back to Ratchet and the CMO observed slow zooming in and out, much like an amnesic indecisively distrusting another presence. Ratchet's first thought was to tell him to knock off the distrust of his doctor, but his second was to remember how uncertain Prowl became after he started realizing he was "alone."

While Ratchet observed and internally debated, Prowl was trying to establish connections with his normal mindset. When he looked at the back wall with its covered hole, he first thought about how he was going to get on Medical's collective afts for ignoring the proper channels of base modifications. That thought never finished when the most obscured observation invoked a memory.

The way the tan material wrapped around a support beam on one side, secured by faded red rope, and was very tightly stretched along the orange wall to reach the next beam, reminded him of his first solo Enforcer patrol investigation in Praxus. An old warehouse building at the edge of a long-term storage park had a faded tan paint job, and from the way the setting sun hit it, there was some visually ascertainable rust. One of the towers looked particularly orange and had rust pits when he got close, searching for the petty criminal activity. Instead of young vandals he found a spray paint stained mech dangerously close to overdosing on an illicit recreational supply. The mech was stabilized at the hospital and the datawork was finished just as his shift ended. For once Prowl decided to leave on time, and after he got home Bluestreak called him not 5 breems later, eager to hear about his brother's first time without a trainer. When Prowl mentioned busting/rescuing a mech behind a slowly-rusting building, Bluestreak was alarmed and kept asking him if he was _sure_ he didn't get any rust on him, or if there was any in the spray paint. He went so far as to say if Prowl felt sick but didn't get himself checked, Bluestreak would move out of their creator's home and into Prowl's to make sure that he "behaved" himself.

"Oh holy Primus on an oil wafer, you're smiling. Like _genuinely_ smiling, not fake or sardonic smiling," Ratchet amazing, jaw slack. "What in this dark unholy universe has _you_ smiling?"

Immediately Prowl killed the unplanned smile. "If you want me to take these 4 remaining breems to be 'more mech-like,' then you need to leave. You gasping about is not helping."

Ratchet narrowed his optics at the "gasping about" comment. "Fine, be that way. And it's just under 4.5 breems. You're not getting away with short-changing me or my machines." He shook his finger at Prowl as he back away several steps, pivoted, and left.

Prowl considered Ratchet's suggestion, but the CMO's comment about his smile made him acutely aware of his exposure. Instead he reconsidered just working on a datapad. He grabbed one and out of sheer reflex sent his tac-set a command before belatedly remembering. Prowl's fingers brushed the power button as he hesitated over picking the comfortable workaholics nature driving by a tac-set over his natural inclinations.

' _Which is…?_ ' Prowl's optics slowly widened as he tried finding something. ' _I have no clue what I'm partial to doing on my own._ ' He looked again at that dark datapad, thinking about how if he worked on it now he didn't need to waste time fretting about how he was possibly a stranger to his own self, and any work done now was time saved for when he could be with Jazz and actually _be with Jazz_.

' _Jazz…_ '

Without his tac-set adding its bit on Jazz, Prowl could really "hear" his spark better. Not just through the emotion filters, but it felt stronger in his chassis. The fluttering was stronger, as if his spark wasn't "sufficiently healed" but truly healed. There were no irregular movements or brief flickers of pain from the expected spark-scaring from coming back from such a serious spark injury.

Cautiously he let his filters down and there was renewed whispering in his helm, but this time it came from behind the wall. It whispered _trust_ , _support_ , and _acceptance_. The sensations were almost like he had all of his extra-sensitive spark sensors again, the ones originally meant to assist Prowl in realizing whether or not his spark was in a satisfactory state (aka still surviving). It reminded him of the time he cut ties with his spark's ability to communicate with his mind so he couldn't feel pain over Jazz, where it cried "no" with a hurtful energy pang - except this time it was the opposite. If there was a feel to "yes," he suspected it was this.

What were these whispers? Words without full context but enough to form a grainy picture, perhaps, but Prowl wasn't comfortable acting on or in accordance to what he didn't have a strong statistical correlation calculated and proven.

Perhaps if he listened more he'd have more context. Prowl offlined his optics, lowered his fans to near idle speeds, and tried for the first time in a very long time to listen to his spark.

"Ready?"

Prowl's helm snapped up to give the unannounced Ratchet a bewildered look, with flickering optics, before the tactician roughly halted his movements. He schooled his expression back into neutral and forced his doorwings back into the neutral upright position, releasing the forgotten datapad in his lap.

"A fast 4.5 breems?" Ratchet gingerly questioned, caught off aware by the startling reaction.

"It was an _unusual_ 4.5 breems. Your return merely brought back a sudden normality that I wasn't watching for."

Ratchet heard the guarded nature in the words. "Would you like more time to transition smoothly from the unusual to the normal at your pace?"

"No thank you. I do have work to complete, and the protection of everyone to ensure."

"Fine. I'll have to put you back into temporary stasis and make sure things start back up correctly. I'll run some diagnostic testing while you're out."

Despite Ratchet's reassurances, once he was free of the cables Prowl completed his own checks to verify his tac-set was functioning well. [[Recommendations for remaining time before recharge?]]

[[User initiated action, query-type...]] The AI began, running through the commands before returning the top three options. [[...Return: recommend follow the highlighted schedule. Two alternatives available. Subroutine...]]

Prowl reviewed it carefully, hyperaware of keeping his thoughts isolated from the AI about the missing "Barricade" references. The constant chatter from the AI during the query run matched the chatter of before Jazz's trip instead of after. "Ratchet, it appears your efforts have worked. At least for the immediate time."

"Great, then I've had my win for the orn. Don't suppose I could convince you to do this again? Preventative maintenance can make the difference, and that includes keeping chances for bad/mutating code opportunities at bay."

"At this time convincing me to risk so much for an understudied hypothetical is highly improbable. My arguments from before remain very much the same."

"And my arguments from before remain very much the same, and will be waiting for you next time I see you," Ratchet rebutted, with a faint coy grin.

"So I shouldn't schedule those recurring administrative datawork meetings?"

That wiped the medic's face clean, replacing it with a scowl. "Okay, fine; excluding times when _I_ need _you_ while we're on duty, my arguments will be waiting and will remain very much the same."

"I suppose that's acceptable, in light of your natural inclinations."

"Excuse me? You mean my natural inclinations to make sure all the little soldiers, officers, agents, and other sundries Autobots survive? To be naturally inclined to harbor all arguments for each one of those mechs not die from something they could have prevented? You referring to _those_ natural inclinations?"

"Sure. Speaking of harboring and work, I have too much of my own work items waiting on me," Prowl redirected to excuse himself.

"Uh huh." Ratchet watched Prowl for signs of concern, following him until they neared the main Medbay door. "Don't forget to schedule that meeting. I want to get that rotating inter-base medic scheduling going before we get a bunch of new soldiers. Getting to know even half of the ones already stationed here will be scary enough for a new doctor."

"Of course."

When the doors closed behind him Prowl looked again at the AI's proposed schedule. Its first proposed step was to get more Coff-E and drink it slower.

When he made back to the small break room, he spotted a mech he thought unlikely to be at work at this time. "Wheeljack?"

The engineer turned around from the Coff-E dispenser and waved, a small gadget in hand. "Hey, Prowl!"

"You're off duty," the master scheduler stated, his nose wrinkling.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Yeah, but I've gotten so much feedback that I thought I'd ticker with it before the next shift starts. Prime approved it on account of an upcoming early meeting he has with Red. I think he figures he could try a boost before listening to Red's bi-weekly ra- _ahhh_ , list - of the securities issues from all the construction projects. Apparently no one can really stand the taste all that well. Except maybe you? Red and Ferno mentioned you not grimacing or spitting it out like some of the others."

"I found the taste tolerable in favor of the tradeoffs."

Wheeljack's fins light up a bright green-blue, aka the "happy to be appreciated" color. "So far you are the only one. A few swallowed it okay, but said they wouldn't try it again unless it was the only thing that'd help them fake looking alive after not recharging."

"So what are you doing now?"

Wheeljack turned back to the dispenser and tapped the top with his tool, showing the new attachment on the side and top. "Installing some flavor options to try and mask the taste until I can solve the problem at the source. Problem is finding a chemical solution that gives short energy bursts without burning through regular energon reserves, while safely mixing with energon-processing systems, and doesn't taste like what I'm extracting it from."

"An aftertaste faintly comparable to burnt slag?"

Wheeljack winced. "The extraction process needs some refining... Still, demand is high while so many 'Bots keep at the construction and all things related. I'm not putting one in the Rec Room until I get this one smoothly working, which adds pressure from certain Autobots who don't like going near officers. Ah well, the cowards will just have to recharge like they're supposed to."

"There are certain soldiers I'd rather not be able to take more than a small and carefully managed amount right before their scheduled shift, and only then," Prowl agreed as he waited. "If I may add another request?"

"Sure. No promises on getting it done now," he said with a shrug.

"I wouldn't ask you to rush something we consume. Can you add a potency control? Red Alert mentioned that you 'watered it down,' so I can assume that it wasn't near its maximum effect."

Wheeljack stared, his fins flickering a shocked orange. "Uh, yeah. Wouldn't help reduce the taste problem. Might even make it worse for a little while. I doubt these flavors would mask the taste enough at the high potency levels."

"Taste is a short experience, which can be easily hastened if even a short experience is intolerable."

"You mean if the taste is hard to swallow?" Wheejack winked.

Prowl optics slightly dimmed. "Yes. If you're done with puns and if it's safe, I'd like to have a cup."

The engineer's fins light up happily again and he moved aside, gesturing for Prowl to take where he was standing. "By all means. Might taste a little funky because I've been testing the flavors and making sure it dispenses and mixes right. Not sure what flavor or flavors you're going to get. Call it the 'Mystery Flavor'? Every brand's got to have at least one of those."

"I don't know why you're thinking about brands but you won't be doing such with this. I'll take comfort in knowing there's worst mysteries out there than questionable flavoring." Prowl pulled out a cup and filled it. He slowly sipped it once, ignoring Wheeljack watching him with scientific inquiry. "This is sufficiently mystery flavored. Purely for my own planning, when do you think you'll have my request ready?"

"Ah, maybe when I finish my regular shift?"

"Thank you," Prowl acknowledged and headed to his quarters, datapad in one hand and tucked in the arm, while the other held the cup.

His quickening steps had him in his quarters before long and he settled down at his desk terminal. He started working on the datapads and after 2 reports on the first datapad were completely processed, he realized the third would require his tac-set directly interacting with it. He hardlined into the datapad, this time via a wrist port by the port connecting to the _Teletraan_ terminal. While he wated for the tac-set to churn through the raw data he took the moment to contact his brother. ::Smokescreen?::

::Hey,:: the diversionary tactician replied after a couple kliks delay.

::Would you be willing to have a working refuel break with me during our next shift?::

::Sure?::

::Are you uncertain because you haven't looked at the schedule yet, or because you have other plans?::

::Firs' un.::

::You're doing short-distance patrols during your shift. You'll be able to return for break. Are you alright?::

::Yeah.::

::I've been meaning to ask you, what are your thoughts on Hound, Trailbreaker, and Beachcomber's requests to build hybrid Earth-Cybertronian gardens?::

::Wha'?::

::Do you think we could ever harvest some of the Earth-Cybertronian plants to use it against the Decepticons? Perhaps as a tool, a weapon, or to distract them by "organic-affying" pieces of Cybertron?::

::Uh, yeah?::

Prowl recognized the pattern of short answers and Smokescreen's lack of committal comments confirmed enough of his suspicions. [[Assess Smokescreen's response times and pronunciation accuracies,]] he ordered.

[[User initiated action…]]

Prowl continued, ::Smokescreen, what are you doing?::

::Hangin'.::

::With who?::

::Twins.::

::Where at?::

::Their quar'ers.::

::And what are you doing in their quarters?::

::Things.::

::Which are…?:: Prowl prompted.

::The non-brothe'ly or non-boss kin'.::

[[Return: Tactician Smoksecreen's speech is 0.2919 kliks slower to respond than normal. Pronunciation of each work is 0.0822 kliks slower than normal, and 8.3911% less accurate than normal. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are currently on the construction volunteer list. Subroutine...]]

Prowl considered his options: give up his hopes to get work done and check the construction location himself, or get another officer to check. It was possible that the three of them were in the twins' quarters, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker forgot to remove their names from the roster. If they weren't and if his suspicions on Smokescreen's mannerisms were right, at the very minimum there would be automatic brig regardless of who discovered an inebriated Smokescreen (and others) at a construction spot.

He pinged Ironhide. ::Ironhide, are you willing to investigate an immediate issue?::

::Aw, Prowl. Can't a mech enjoy his downtime?::

::I'm sorry, but you're the only officer I know to have time to investigate a matter. I believe there are at least one mech drinking, or having drank, high-grade while in the construction zone by the soldier quarters. I'm in the midst of downloading and converting data, but this warrants immediate investigation.::

:: _Pit_ there'll be no tolerance of that. I'm on it. If there are drunk slaggers bein' stupid in a hazard area, I'll take them straight to the brig by kicking them there by the aft.::

::If one is Smokescreen, please take in account that I need to speak to him on my shift.:: Prowl hastily requested when he heard muffled angry tones in the hallway. If he heard them, then Ironhide was probably quite loud beyond his doors. ' _Loud enough for Jazz to hear_.' Prowl detected a heightened increase in energy motion in his spark. He turned up the sensitivity on his doorwings to detect and notify him if/when Jazz appeared.

::Yeah, yeah. I won't beat his aft to the point he can't walk to your office later. Maybe with a limp, but he'll a-walk.::

Prowl closed the line and focused on making sure he finished processing as much as possible from the geological and structural team report before an interruption. His simulator was busy comparing the data analysis to schedules and layouts.

The tac-set was nearly 90% complete when his doorwings detected the silent change in air current movements around his emergency exit hatch. A solid presence moved through the hatch, disrupting the air current flow patterns. Prowl switched modes to safely disconnect without losing data while the solid presence moved more freely into his quarters.

"Hello, Jazz," Prowl greeted as he disconnected from the datapad, and rose. He reduced his doorwing sensors back to their normal off-duty levels.

"'Ello," replied his secret visitor. "Hide was cussing up a storm about stupidity. Your doing?"

"Technically Smokescreen's doing, but I did request Ironhide take care of it. I'm in the middle of some important calculations."

"Oh," Jazz replied with a twinge of disappointment. "So what does that mean?"

"Two things: Ironhide will actually return to his quarters long before you'd normally return to your quarters after recharging here, so you'll need to make a decision on whether to deal with that now or later; two, I need to complete this datapad before anything else. It needs to be available for review by several individuals upon the start of the primary shift."

Jazz glanced to the berth, to Prowl, to the hatch, and back. "Well, I was feeling the need for a Praxian snack, but I get that I'll have to keep my charge on ice for now. I still don't want to recharge alone, 'though, even if it's just having you in the same room. Is that cool?"

"That's acceptable. I'll join you when I can."

"Hopefully not too long," Jazz commented as he looked over Prowl's room, starting his security sweep.

The tac-set pinged Prowl. [[New AI initiated action, query-type: value of Officer Jazz's presence here, compared to work efficiency losses?]]

[[Go on standby,]] he commanded. Did he have some sort of accidental script that allowed it to initiate its own action now, without provocation or battle? A question to ask Ratchet later, in case there was something overlooked. They looked for bad or mutated code, but perhaps there was a third potential not purged.

To Jazz he inquired, "Are you intending to bring up the full security measures?"

"Not sure," Jazz answered, biting his lip. "I did in my quarters while I was trying to relax but it's kind of counterproductive. Relaxing in the most unrelaxed room. When I heard Hide I figured I'd come here. I would've come straight here, except I had to put everything back into normal security mode before leaving."

"You waste a lot of time on these matters," he murmured.

"Hey now," Jazz protested. "You know this is important to me."

Prowl winced. "I meant our current situation is forcing you to go through a lot of efforts to achieve a sense of security."

Jazz haphazardly shrugged as he returned to inspecting the quarters. "Our options are, one: to go 'public' and see what insanity that brings, which I'm not sure how far-from-platonic fraternizing at the General Army Command level will be perceived; two: find some amazing defense why we need to be roommates; three: play music chairs but with quarters until ours end up next to each other; or four: get Hide to move without tipping him or anyone off that it's because we're being totally selfish."

"Then let's get Ironhide to move."

The saboteur perked up. "Come again? I meant that to get more silly-stupid as I went down the list. Do I hear a plan forming that makes Option Number 4 not stupid?"

Prowl issued a command to get his tac-set out of standby, briefly pleased he was doing that and not it. [[Find a solution to get Ironhide to move out of his quarters. A solution that doesn't have someone else moving into the quarters after he leaves.]]

[[User initiated action… return: Provide Officer Ironhide incentive to move and to suggest his quarters be used as a storage unit for localized movements, given the amount of construction going on.]]

' _At_ _least it's still using 'User' and 'Officer'. It probably is just an oversight_ ,' Prowl realized, and the tension in his forehelm relaxed.

"My tac-set suggests that the most logical conclusion is to get Ironhide to move and then use his quarters as a storage unit during all of this construction."

" _Oooh_ , interested," Jazz awed, pausing his sweeps and using the berth to sit cross-legged. "Given Hide's visitor count so he can tell his stories, he could use bigger quarters. Plus he has often enough mini-trips to investigate troop behaviors or weapon issues that I'm sure the old mech would appreciate a shorter walk. Hey, don't we have a giant storage area near the training area that runs along the walls with solvent piping and other sundries a mech needs for working quarters?"

Upon Prowl's command the AI immediately seeked and pulled up stored construction blueprints. "It's two medium-size storage areas that haven't been well maintained, but nothing irreparable and their shared wall is mostly for division. It's non-load-bearing and there's no crucial electrical or piping within it. The contents could easily be relocated, and the south-side wall does have all the connections he'd need."

"Plus enough wall space for him to mount more story artifacts and usable weapons or weapons stuff," Jazz noted.

"True. It'll also cut down on time wasted when he gets called to deal with some sort of training or weapon incident. He might be a bit miffed about being easier to call upon for other trouble, which I'm sure Red Alert will happily use to his full capability."

"We'll figure something out. Protocols or whatever. Strategic deployments of Ferno. How about we work it out over next shift break?"

"Unfortunately I've reserved that time to talk to Smokescreen. I'll have to talk to Ironhide prior to that since Smokescreen will probably realize I'm the one who sent Ironhide to investigate him just now. I'll work it into the conversation."

"You sicked Hide on Smokey? Tough love."

"He's been drinking and he's likely hanging around the 'suburbia sprawl zone.'"

"I don't think he's that reckless, but he could be down collecting or something."

"I don't think he's that reckless, either, but I can't ignore the possibility. I also can't take time out of my work." Prowl motioned at the datapads. "If that's - " Prowl stopped when he looked back at Jazz sitting on his berth. He remembered his earlier plans to ask Jazz if he recharged well after the SIC left for duty. His concerns about Jazz's talkativeness, now coupled with Jazz's admitted/observed activity since then, said there was definitely something of hidden trouble. While a smaller concern, he remembered how Jazz had a high multi-interfacing need after missions and Jazz's greeting further tipped him off that the mission's effects still lingered in the saboteur's systems.

' _Reports or Jazz, reports or Jazz_ ,' he debated. If he did the reports now he could dedicate more time to Jazz than a brief window, but would that be too late?

[[New AI initiated action... Recommend course of action: reports now. Proper assessing of reports now may allow more to be delegated later, which will open more time for later. Current matches between Officer Jazz and physiatrist databases indicated Officer Jazz will be able to maintain function for at least one more online cycle.]]

The offered plan was acceptable, so long as he added a few addendums. Jazz wouldn't have a bad recharge while he was within easy reach?

[[New AI initiated action... Chances of self-induced disruption to recharge for Jazz is 3.1860%, based on comparing the latest mission to missions that have caused problems for Jazz previously.]]

That sounded solid reasoning, but why did his spark and fuel tanks feel queasy about accepting it? He dismissed his concerns over the unpleasantness. "If that's all for the moment, I should to return to this. The sooner I complete this, the sooner I can recharge with you."

Jazz's visor dimmed. "Yeah, understood. Go ahead. I don't feel like going straight to recharge, yet, ya know?"

Prowl's spark upped its queasy-factor. His tac-set assured him that the statistics where there, compared to the missions that did get inside Jazz's helm. Numbers were more trustable than Prowl's unquantifiable and abstruse feelings.

Jazz continued, "I'll finish my sweeps and setting up as security as I can without it tripping because you're working and I'm awake. I'll probably need some quiet-time entertainment after I'm done. I think I left a recreational datapad here?"

"Yes, you did. It's in that drawer," Prowl pointed to a wall built-in shelving, second row, left side.

Prowl settled back into his desk and reestablished both hardlines while Jazz popped over to the drawer. Prowl almost was ready to restart when Jazz called out, "Is this my stuff?"

"It's everything you've left behind. For a mech who's very uptight about security and visitor safety, you sure leave a mess behind."

"There are 4 items! Plus this is a safe zone. Is this everything I've left behind?"

"Yes, that's the drawer I reserved for what you leave behind." He turned back around, datapad still in hand, watching Jazz inspect the drawer's contents.

[[Connection established. Recommendation: resume work on the datapad.]]

Prowl ignored it when he saw a soft lip lick and short smile as Jazz pulled out a Special Ops hand-sized box. The saboteur murmured, "I think I left this behind 2 mega-orns ago."

"Closer to three."

"It's been cleaned."

"Of course. I cleaned and made sure all of it is operating optimally."

"You never mentioned having these," Jazz pointed out, more with admiration than accusation.

"You never asked and none looked important to your duties. That one in your hand I believe is more of a training tool you've used to pass the time."

"Yup. A fun little puzzle with snapping blades and bug-bot hunting."

"Those words literally do not below together," Prowl drawled.

He grinned. "Well, anyways. Thanks for taking care of my stuff. Perhaps I could leave a few more things in this drawer?"

"If we succeed with moving Ironhide it won't be necessary, but you may if you wish."

"Thanks," Jazz said.

The saboteur subspaced the tool/toy to finish securing the room and then returned to the berth. When Prowl finished the one report he paused everything and glanced at Jazz. He didn't know what a Special Ops puzzle did, but from the looks of it he wouldn't be trying. "Are you trying to get something out of there without cutting off your fingers?"

Jazz paused and rolled over, scooting across the berth until he was closer. He held it out. "It's got these hidden compartments. The goal is to get a little robot that moves around the hidden compartments, avoid damage, and find it quickly. There're other littler robots that do things to make it harder to find, like muffle noises or false trails."

Jazz turned it over in his hands, slowly playing with the blades. "I haven't done much with this in a long time. One of the reasons being the blade joints needed to be re-oiled. I noticed that the joints have been re-oiled."

"Of course. After I cleaned it - and got over my surprise of the blade that lost a fight with gravity - I lubricated the joints and tightened a few fasteners. I didn't see the little robots."

Jazz chortled. "Sorry about that. Without any new agents to train, I use these mostly to entertain myself for a breem or two in my own quarters. I guess last time I had this I got it in my helm that this was just like my place."

"... Ah."

Jazz tilted his helm at the Prowl's lack of response to the statement. He tried again, but from a different angle. "Do you know why you cleaned and repaired?"

"It was practical?"

Jazz chuckled. "Okay." When Jazz noted the distracted look setting into Prowl's optics once more, he decided to skip anymore talks about behavior Prowl didn't understand but endeared Jazz. "Tac-set?"

"Yes, I should resume work."

"You'll finish setting the last security items when you go into recharge, right?"

"Of course. Rest well, Jazz."

"Thanks." Jazz settled down, playing with the puzzle with faster fingers. "If I'm offline before you're done, then you rest well too."


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N:_**

 _For the sake of story flow, I'm putting this here: "critical recharge" threshold/point is the minimum amount of recharge necessary for an Autobot to be able to handle a surprise attack at the end of a hard orn's work. Varies Bot-to-Bot. Below that threshold and their ability to handle the attack is compromised, possibly even gone._

 _Breem = 8.3 minutes._

 _ **Triggers:** Bad nightmare of previous wartime trauma, suicide refs (of others). The trauma isn't particularly detailed because FFN says 'T' rated fics posted these days can't be that dark._

* * *

About one joor into Jazz's recharge, and an estimated 1.8529 joors from Prowl's critical recharge threshold, the SIC's doorwings were getting twitchy from irregular frequencies randomly assaulting his sensors. He saved his report, disconnected from his terminal, and just as his full attention returned to the real world to detach the datapad hardline connection he heard a bang and a sharp cry from Jazz. The noise instantly pulled him to face to his berth and see the beginning signs of defensive thrashing in a _supposed-to-be-recharging_ mech.

Prowl abandoned disconnecting the hardline and leaped up to get to Jazz before he hurt himself. He moved over Jazz, used his body to stop the swinging datapad from smacking Jazz while simultaneously blocking Jazz from striking himself. Jazz's movements were rapidly escalating to frantically fighting against something made up of more than a pair of arms and legs. Prowl kept above him, blocking Jazz from hurting himself. The almost-clinically-detached part of his processor noticed the minor paint damage on Jazz's hand, telling him what caused the bang.

The rest of his processor his concern was wholly centered on resolving Jazz's immediate needs. This being the third nightmare since they started recharging regularly together, Prowl expected he could end it quickly. Instead Jazz was escalating, now hitting and clawing harder. So far it was nothing Prowl's self-repair and touchup paint couldn't handle, and the damage was discarded as a fleeting concern.

What Prowl knew in the case of an agent trying to fight off imagined violent capture was to minimize grabbing or pinning Jazz, or risk a confused Jazz coming online with battle protocols engaging faster than the misperception cleared. He needed to provide a sense of safety and surrealism to disrupt whatever was convincing Jazz he was truly under attack. From the distress in his cries Jazz was a badly losing the fight, making time even more pressing of a factor.

The bursts of energy that swelled into almost pounding flares in Prowl's chassis weren't helping his concentration, and he could feel the panic from it seeping into his processor. Worse than that was his tac-set's continual suggestion of temporary incapacitating Jazz was worse. The stark comparison between the two reminded Prowl that his tac-set was ultimately a highly sophisticated battle computer and it put fast results above all else.

[[Go onto standby,]] he commanded. His tac-set was of no use and just distracting him with battle tactics in a very non-combat-relevant situation. He turned up the emotional filters as high as he could, until he felt only a trickle of panic. That didn't help the chassis pain, but Prowl could ignore physical sensations effectively enough.

First he needed to find an inlet into Jazz's nightmare, to convince the distraught mech that he was okay. Neither Jazz's optics nor visor were online so nothing visually could be done. A hardline was out because of Jazz's instincts to attack potential hacks.

' _Hacks. Non-consensual hardlines are signs of grave eminent danger_ ,' Prowl latched onto that line of thought. He slipped his hand around Jazz's wrist, by the saboteur's main hardline port, forming an open V-shape between his digits. He used his thumb to gently caress around the armor protecting the port, keeping the touches as feather-light and non-threatening as he could while maintaining contact with the flailing appendage.

The first time Jazz had a bad memory disrupt his recharge it ended as quickly as Jazz's elbow catching on the recharging Prowl's chevron. Prowl's role wasn't stopping the nightmare but helping a confused and injured Jazz calm down. After trying to figure out how to get around explaining the bend in Prowl's chevron and Jazz's gouged elbow they used it as an opportunity for further conversing about quick tricks to calm agents. Back on Cybertron Jazz used a whistle with his teams, with a pitch and frequency imitating Polyhex's industrial district guard shift changes. A whistling sound unique in times of war to Special Ops agents to say help was nearby, but not so unique in any Decepticon-controlled bases and cities to alert enemies.

Prowl did his best to imitate the whistle, having only practiced it at that time and now regretting dismissing its usefulness when it wasn't needed the second time Jazz had a bad memory. After three tries the changes in Jazz's reaction were minuscule.

No longer certain he was at least close to imitating the whistle correctly, Prowl tried what he knew: he searched the dangling datapad via hardline to find a regular maintenance report. He started reading it, his voice low and gradually increasing to a more normal tone. A low voice calmed an online and paranoid Jazz down, but what about a Jazz stuck in a true nightmare?

The panicking mech's kicks lessened and the hand attached to wrist Prowl was caressing was curling and uncurling slower. However, none of it was fast enough for Prowl and one arm was still flailing. For all Prowl knew, Jazz's mind was convinced his three limbs were pinned.

If Prowl himself wasn't considered distraught before, he was now. If his way of reading a report to calm Jazz down wasn't enough, perhaps doing it like Jazz did when trying to spice up office work. That _had_ to dispel the realism of the nightmare. He kept reading the report, but now using Jazz's method of speaking with an awkwardly modified Praxian lullaby melody.

"Volll-canic dis-po-sal rates at the fiii-fth sta-aaa-tion…"

The whole ordeal was less than a half bream before Jazz's movements slowed and finally a pale lighting illuminated from beneath the visor, but Prowl would swear differently. Jazz's visor started onlining but then it went dark. Before Prowl could be alarmed about that oddity Jazz's free hand snatched the visor and ripped it off so quickly Prowl wasn't sure if it was physically damaged.

His spark's energy constricted painfully tight at the sounds of Jazz gasping and all fans switching to max immediately, but Prowl didn't react as his alertness was taken aback by Jazz's optics. The half-prone mech's crystal clear optics, softly tinted sky blue around the edges lacked a single flaw to obscure anything from Prowl's sight. His inner lenses were wide, the mechanisms rapidly blinking and moving to find focus.

Mesmerized and concerned, Prowl leaned over a little so Jazz could see him. As soon as the mechanics within the optics stopped cycling and visually latched onto Prowl, Jazz was up and crashing into Prowl with a tight hold. Prowl flared his doorwings and brought his arms out to sides to counter the movement and his off-centered kneeling. Jazz's frame heaved and his vents heavily cycled hot air and for a moment Prowl feared Jazz would cry. He had little almost no idea what to do now, and if Jazz cried Prowl would be absolutely out of any ideas.

Jazz's optics remain liquid-free, but he buried them in Prowl's shoulder so he couldn't tell if they were calming down. Prowl left the decision to talk or move to Jazz, opting for trying to soothe him like he did for Bluestreak after Praxus fell. Those orns were beyond turbulent and one of the few times he truly experienced emotional pain, and he didn't know what to do for himself or Bluestreak until the few survivors were grouped together. Watching them comfort each other reminded him of his adopted creators and he slowly massage between Bluestreak's doorwings until he fell into recharge.

For Jazz he used one hand and followed the mech's spinal strut, occasionally tracing a seam. A full breem past before Jazz's vents calmed enough to almost be considered normal tempered air and the fans quieted. Nearly two more passed and Jazz's full-body grip loosed enough for Jazz to reset his arms more comfortably around Prowl and then sag into the Praxian's body. Prowl's doorwings flared again to better stabilize them, this time so Prowl could slowly lower them both backwards until he could sit, albeit with one legs still laying by Jazz's side.

"S- Sorry…" Jazz said. "Just, ah…"

"It's alright." Prowl waited a few more kliks before his guilty question burned a hole through his lips. "Was the last mission worse than I realized?"

"Ah, no. Not exactly." Jazz laughed, the tone hollow and disparaging. "This is just the first time you've witnessed a mission making a calling back to another one. A way, _way_ worse one. The one here was stressful, sure, but most of that wasn't _so_ much because we were unexpectedly on our own; more like the near-misses and mistakes the Earth-ignorant agents made way too often reminded me of an old mission gone really wrong. Back before I got to be a part of Command. I mean, I knew it couldn't go nearly as wrong because northern Canada hasn't been captured and repurposed as a Decepticon torture base. But between my training team's slips and one of the Canada 'Con newbie spies looking a lot like one of the nasty 'Cons from my past, I guess it was too much to keep trying ignoring."

"Oh." The following silence between the two of them was uncomfortable for Prowl, as he witnessed Jazz clearing his mind without expressing it beyond the shifting heavy weight buried into Prowl. The stoic mech's spark had an icky sensation to it that Prowl was pretty certain qualified as unease.

"You can tell me, Jazz, especially if it'll help you recharge again to work through whatever you've been ignoring."

Jazz briefly squeezed Prowl. "Thanks, but that's okay. It's pretty dark, and the nasty past 'Con was in a group with goals to become besties with Shockie." Jazz laughed again, but there was just as little life to it as the last one.

"You told me I was probably the only one you could talk to about your demons without it haunting me." Prowl carefully resettled himself comfortably around Jazz. If there were Decepticons pining to be seen fondly by Shockwave, then the story most certainly would be long and contain many demons. "If you really meant that you trusted me to be there for you, then please trust me when I say let me be there for you now."

Jazz ex-vented hard, accompanied by an equally hard shudder. "I'll tell you want I can. I can't really dig into it all right now, 'kay? It's about the first time I was captured for longer than a few joors."

"As much as you want to 'dig' is fine by me."

Jazz started slow, telling Prowl about a recon mission long before Prowl had army-wide access to Special Operations. "One of our smaller bases near the Wilds had been attacked and captured. My team was essentially the only team available, unless you counted the completely fresh-outta-training boot camper agents. We were more like the 'celebrate your fifth unlocked achievement' agents. Not enough experience as a team to know how to call things out or adjust on the fly, but enough to be trusted on fast recon-only missions without a ranking agent handholding.

"The war-front offices for tactical and Spec Ops had photos from some of the cameras. Grainy photos, 'cause most of the cameras were disabled or destroyed before they got close enough. A few of the far perimeter cameras were damaged but managed to transmit tiny bits of visuals before Decepticons finished them off.

"Offices ID'ed them as mostly normal brute force Decepticon soldiers, but also a few known berserkers. So they made plans on that. We got inside, easy-breezy enough, only to find out those in the offices identified the hostiles too fast. They weren't berserkers; they were those Shockwave wannabe-pals with appearances that at a crappy photo one-over study resembled famed Decepticons. Since our plans called for getting around trigger-happy and punch-happy Decepticons, two of my teammates didn't see the trap. They weren't familiar with the area. They came from Iacon, of industrial districts and riches, respectively. They got nabbed. We remaining two got captured before we could escape for help."

Jazz's re-accounting of what happened from then until the next rescue team succeeded was bad enough that Prowl understood why Jazz felt only his emotion-mute companion could hear the story without cutting him off by needing a reprieve. Even so, a few details tasked Prowl's well-rehearsed abilities to listen to the worst of black-marked missions.

"Whatever surviving Decepticons were left after the 'Bots took back the base were hauled off to some dark prison or execution cell. The three of us were transported straight to an established actual medical facility instead of a tent, along with about twenty other mechs who suffered bad enough they couldn't survive on tent medical berths. Iasty, was really torn up, but swore he'd be okay," Jazz explained, using the nickname for agent' from Iacon's industrial districts.

He continued, "He kept saying he'd miss his teammate but no more than the rest of us. 'What's a truck-shipping yard mech got in common with a riches mech, just because of hailing from the same city-state?' I always suspected they had something a bit more going on between them, but I brushed it off and took him at his word. I thought Iasty looked okay enough that his morale would bounce back after we got through treatment. Then one orn he was a bit sadder while we tried playing a board game. I don't know what made that orn different, but Iasty said he feeling down and needed a break. Turns out you can use a fine detailing polish brush to go through the optic and skewer the CPU beyond repair, if you break the handle just right."

"He committed suicide, over the one who didn't survive?"

"He tried. They eventually had to declare him processor-dead and pull life-support."

"I'm sorry," Prowl replied, in part because he wasn't sure how to respond.

"Not your fault."

"That's not what I'm sorry about. It's that…" Prowl sighed, caught between not risking any burden to Jazz with his own problems and being a hypocrite. He told Jazz not to hide from him about the saboteur's inner turmoil; he'd be worse than a liar if he did the complete opposite with Jazz's full honesty and trust.

"I've had missions I planned where one or a few mechs came back counted as survivors, ended up no longer counting as survivors. I have the occasional one-off suicides, and about three small group suicides. I never figured out how to deal with that. It's not like I could promise to try harder next time, because that meant I didn't try as hard as I could the first time. In the very beginning I altered post-mission requirements to try and curb chances of survivor's guilt becoming fatal, but there's little Tactical can do when most physiatrists are killed and medics aren't mentally so well themselves after all they've seen and treated. Eventually I just stopped reading reports about the situation because I didn't want to accept it as a fact of war since there wasn't a solution. I'm sorry about what happened to you, even if I my understanding is less about closeness to the lost and more about proximity."

Jazz's arms fondly tightened around Prowl and held him for a solid 15 kliks before relaxing. "Fatal survivor's guilt is one of the worst, right after torturous demise and a handful of other hellish ways to go. I'm pretty sure Ratchet's gone temporary insane a few times from saved patients do that.

"But it's all the more reason to find a way to help the other bases. Give 'Bots a chance to come here, where 'harmless fun' isn't a foul phrase. I asked Smokey a while back to dig through some human books on matters for recovering from trauma, since I think most of our surviving documentation on the matter amount to little better than 'suck it up and keep shooting forward.' I haven't asked him since, but I'll ask him for an update next orn."

"This orn," Prowl corrected with a small frown. "It's unfortunately that late." He hadn't noticed until Jazz mentioned it. There was also less than a joor until his critical recharge point.

Jazz groaned and slowly released Prowl, popping his locked joints but keeping his helm in Prowl's shoulder. Prowl moved both of his arms for the first time since sitting and was suddenly reminded that he was still attached to a datapad. He fished for it with a swing of his wrist.

Jazz turned his head just enough to glance at the motion and saw the datapad. "Have you been working this whole time?" he teased, trying to shift the gloomy mood.

"Of course not. I put it on standby and so far... it's been busy doing other things." The tac-set had come out of standby early into Jazz's story, processing the information Jazz unintentionally provided it to find a better solution. The worst part was the tac-set actually found a few without needing actual tactical data.

"Come again? Did _you_ forget to tell me something? How's it on standby but doing things besides pinging you?" Jazz's face shifted to look up from his optic corner.

"It's nothing to be concerned about. The tac-set was pulling itself out of standby whenever something came up. During my meeting with Ratchet that detail came up, and so Ratchet turned it completely off to purge it of whatever it was that allowed it to ignore the safeguards in a non-emergency situation. That and a few odd readings had him concerned. So far his other concerns seem to be resolved, but since then it's come out of standby a few times. I gather there's some safeguard rule-except he missed. I'll speak to him or another in Medbay about it later."

Prowl hesitated but ultimately decided to leave out what happened during the 5 breems his tac-set was off, as well as the other details of why he choice to let Ratchet try. Whether or not this was the time to tell he wasn't sure, but time was short and Jazz was likely completely mentally and emotionally overtaxed.

"Okay, for future reference: you go to Medbay, you tell me. Especially over that tac-set and it behaving strange. It tried to fry my mind when I hacked it. While I appreciate its planning and battle capabilities, it now is a bit of a freaky entity to me." Jazz softly tapped the side of Prowl's helm housing the tac-set. "Promise?"

"I promise, barring the new meetings I'll be having with Ratchet over staffing."

"I take it your meeting with him went otherwise well? I figured since I didn't get a comm. from you, it went well enough."

"It did, pardoning that I now have one more regular meeting."

"So is that's what's on the pad?"

Prowl glanced at the datapad in his hand but an object on the floor just beyond his peripheral vision redirected his attention. Jazz's abandoned visor. He didn't see damage to it, yet there were faint discolorations from bending the edges in the wrong direction. "No, just regular reports. Why did you throw your visor?"

Jazz pulled his face out of Prowl's shoulder and neck crevice, scrubbing his face with fingers spread from the inner corners of his optics to the visor attachment points. "Remember how I said they liked feeding shock images while cleaning or replacing their tools? Like they were building a resume reel they wanted to send Shock. Well, with me one of them wanted to hack it onto my visor. It took a while but he succeeded. Said he liked that my optics had enough clarity in them to see what I really felt. After that I made sure all of my visors weren't see through, even if a mech was pressed up against it."

"So you toss your visor because you were seeing those images playing on it when you came online?"

Jazz half-shrugged. "Yeah, I was confused. It felt like I was back there, it looked like I was back there. It just didn't sound like I was back there. I heard off-key whistling a couple of times, and then I kept hearing the weirdest report debrief on volcano slurry disposal." This time Jazz fixated on the datapad. "Wait a klik, were you reading – no, _singing_ – me a report?"

Prowl's face and hands suddenly didn't have enough coolant, if the sharp increase in heat was an indicator. "I tried the whistle you taught me for your mission help signal. That didn't immediately work and I thought perhaps I wasn't doing it right, so I read you the report."

Jazz's optics shifted and stared into Prowl's optics. The tactician further confessed when those optics looked straight into his, "I tried to read it like you do when you're claiming to add Jazz-flavoring to boring office work." Those optics were a tad unnerving. He wasn't used to looking into optics that held a piercing intelligence, a knowing inquisitiveness, and a vulnerability long considered non-existent from a consuming war.

The outer corners of those optics turned upward, and Jazz chuckled. "You sung me a maintenance report?"

"More like spoke in a rhythmic manner I'll never repeat outside of private quarters, and for the exclusive purposes of disrupting the nightmare's illusions."

"Hah. What rhythm? I'm curious because now I _have to_ place the tune."

"I doubt you've heard it. It's from an old lullaby our creators used to calm an upset creation."

"Really?" Jazz grinned. "Can I hear it?"

"Perhaps another time, when I'm not tired and have a chance to not sound so off-tune."

Jazz giggled, for once a laugh without a hint of gloom. "Maybe next recharge cycle?"

"If you teach me the whistle, I'll teach you the song. From your description of coming online, it sounds like I didn't do it very well."

More light laughter, but this time not as weary-free as the last. "It was close. Maybe later I can teach you not just the whistle but some other tricks. Definitely at least how to hold a tune better, especially if you're going to be sing-talking your reports."

Prowl grumbled, "I'm not going to dignify the latter with a response. At least tell me this: did you feel me rubbing your wrist?"

Jazz's optic ridges furrowed and he looked at the wrist Prowl was touching earlier. "By this port, yeah?" After Prowl nodded Jazz softly traced the lines Prowl had drawn. "I did and it helped a little, but it wasn't as easy to notice as a sign of hallucinations as a singing volcanic slurry report. This is growing the list a bit, but maybe we can use the idea and later come up with a secret signal, especially in case silent signals are the only option?"

"We can try. Are you ready to go to recharge?"

Jazz hesitated before settling his optics on Prowl's clutched datapad. "Are you going to work some more?"

The tac-set pinged its readiness. "Are you going to recharge?" Prowl repeated.

"Are you going to work some more?"

Prowl rubbed his nasal bridge. He didn't ask the direct question but the indirect one. "When I left your quarters before you were in recharge. How well did you recharge?"

Jazz's optics shifted away. "Didn't, not really. I thought I'd be okay and I was at first. Was probably in the first stages of recharge when it felt like something touched my neck. I onlined, thought maybe it was you, and realized it was no one. I didn't trust going back to recharge, so I had a shot of high-grade and watched TV."

"You were _drinking_ right before your shift?!"

"Hardly! Just enough to calm my neuronet, and joors before I 'clocked' on."

"That doesn't make it alright. Even so, whether or not you succeeded in calming your neuronet, you were talking in a capacity that could match Bluestreak."

"Slander! Kidding." Jazz dismissed and sat straighter. "Drinking's not a solution I use, but going to the Officers Training Room to pull up some rec sims wasn't an option because I didn't want to run into anyone on my way over there. I don't like being around silence when something's bugging me, like say maddening memories trying to finish playing out. Unless I'm hanging with Blaster or someone who can talk like Blue, I tend to make up the difference with either my speakers or my vocalizer."

"I wouldn't mind listening to you speak like Bluestreak to keep something like this from happening again. We'll just have to build a system where work can be done but you can safely work through those 'maddening memories.' Letting your problems get to the point where I tried something as strange as – what did you call it, sing-talking? – a report was too far." Prowl deliberately ignored mentioning the minor injuries to his forearms. He considered it more damaging mentioning it than the actual damage. "But you can't have any high-grade now to recharge or relax. It's far too close to our shifts."

"Obviously. I'll be seeing Raj and he'll know if I've had high-grade while I cajole him into attending the debrief meeting to answer questions."

"I really hope that's not your sole reasoning for not drinking before your shift. Regardless, are you going to recharge?" Prowl inquired once more.

"Yeah, I think I'll be okay," Jazz brushed off. "You going back to the desk to finish some work? Maybe you could finish in the berth and I could load it up to _Teletraan_ while you shower? It'd be nice to have something solid and with doorwings sensors. Plus we can finish setting the other security alerts."

Prowl looked at Jazz's flickering optics as they glanced between him and along the berth. His tac-set said to seize the option and allow Jazz to recharge while he worked from the berth. His reasoning for finishing the reports before Jazz's nightmare remained much the same, with only Jazz's mental stability more in question than before; however, If a key difference is Prowl's physical proximity, then Jazz should be okay if Prowl works next to the recharging agent.

Those optics, though, belied Prowl's confidence in his tac-set's logic. The lens and mechanisms started moving again, similar to when Jazz first came out of the nightmare but at a less intense pace. It looked as if they were unable to settle despite the unchanging low ambient lighting and lack of surrounding movement. Did Jazz have some optic problem that never made itself known to Prowl? Whatever it was, it made Prowl feel abnormal. His chassis was tight and his frame kept tingling every time they focused on him, for reasons Prowl could only vaguely surmise.

' _Recharge with_ _Jazz now, or keep finishing reports so later we can really talk and spend time together later..._ ' Changing a logical workload attack plan over unsettling vulnerable optics was practically anti-strategic. And yet…

"Let's finish setting those security device and then let's get some recharge together."

Jazz's smile made the tightness in Prowl's chassis relax until it flowed into dissipation, and he realized he didn't mind choosing the anti-strategic choice.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 _1) This chapter and the 1st half of chapter 1 basically ARE Jazz's half in the fic summary bit about them needing each other to handle their private instabilities, so I wanted to post it sooner than later. Prowl's main equivalent chapter is many chapters away, because buildup._

 _2) Also, another hint here on what was running through Ratchet's mind in "Emotions" when he just about lost his mind. I know that part being told through 1st POV from another 'Bot (Jazz) caused some readers confusion._

 _3) I am not good at songs, so if anyone interested in helping me figure out the Praxian lullaby, I would very much appreciate the help. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:**_

 _Sorry for the delay; life surprised me._

 _The visor switching idea came from IDW, when Jazz is sneaking onto a base wearing an emerald green visor._

 _TBD = To Be Determined_

 _I deliberately wrote the reference to Ratchet's partner(s) as vague as I could so readers can insert their own preference. Part of the reason being there's so many Ratchet ships out there. Only requirement is that it must be someone actually on the Ark. Other than that, unless there's enough of a call for specific ships (including others relationships tagged "implied"), I'm going for letting readers use their preferred ships._

* * *

Jazz onlined first, everything a bit off. First he realized he was curled up in Prowl's arms, legs tangled. The tangled legs was normal, but general he didn't _curl up_ and Prowl's physical contact was minimal beyond the legs. Waking to Prowl's chassis filling his vision was unexpected, as was the following realization that he was seeing Prowl's paint in way too much detail. Not the detail of being face-pressed into a mech, but the detail of his optics unobstructed.

No HUD texts or targeting markers marred a clear field of vision. The other surprise was all the visible colorand extremely detailed shadow/light contrasts. Prowl's paint job may have been black and white, but with the sensitivity of Jazz's optics unobstructed by a visor, he could easily see the small shade differences from steady long-term use of touch up paint application instead of a solid new coat. He could also see the contrasting outlines of Prowl's remaining scars far more easily.

Polyhexian optics for sparklings originating from the artisan districts were clearer than the average mech so they could take in more colors and light. Combined with sensitive audial horns, it made for a colorful and lively sparklinghood. Eventually most Polyhexians with that optic type got visors to cut out adult distractions, or to further enhance their artistic nature. In Jazz's case, his first visor was tailored to showing music lines.

Since then, the nature of his visors changed and they started staying on longer, until they became necessary for almost all aspects of his life. Now the longest his face was visor-free was during visor switching or medical checks, the latter often with medical equipment shinning in his optics.

The lack of visor felt disturbingly naked and made his face prickly. He remembered picking his visor off the floor and setting it on a small shelf, too shook up to wear it. He wriggled away from Prowl's arms intending on fetching the visor, grinning as the muffled grunts of a very tired mech not wanting to care enough to online. His smiled fell as soon as he saw scratches in Prowl's arms, and bruised paint nanites. The scratches weren't deeper than the first layers of metal and would easily heal, but Jazz knew those weren't there before the saboteur went to recharge the first time.

"Prowler," he whispered, "you awake? You better be, or else you didn't set your doorwing sensors as high as you said."

More grunting. "Wakein 1.5...three…"

Prowl's response waned, not able to stay online enough to finish the number. Jazz checked his chronometer and realized Prowl meant he didn't need to be up for 1.5 more joors.

Apologizes could wait that long. Prowl was clearly more tired that Jazz thought if he couldn't finish a sentence. Jazz finished wriggling away to grab his visor. He inspected it closer and reconfirmed that the hookup points were fine, that only the surrounding material had been stressed enough for visual detection. He'd switch this visor out for another one later and have the damage repaired. At least he managed to have enough sense in him when he onlined to execute the _disengage_ commands to the visor interface before almost tearing it out.

He carefully reconnected it and allowed it time to properly run through functional checks, least he find out he was wrong. While it did that he moved back into Prowl's arms, content with claiming the same new recharge position within his safety net.

This time they both onlined together to their internal alarms, but only one's optics and visor powered up. Jazz squeezed Prowl's leg in between his. "Staying online this time?"

The response was still sleepy. "Duty calls for it."

"Usually does. If I knew how to fake desk duty while recharging I'd tell you my secrets. Maybe. What's your plans for this orn?"

"Reports, the planned working refuel with Smokescreen to delegate some of the workload, mission debrief, and then when Trailbreaker starts his shift I'll meet with him to first go over what I want to delegate to him," he listed.

"Good luck with delegating to Smokey. You did send Hide to bite his aft. Smokey might be holding a bit of a grudge."

"I did it for his safety." Prowl's optics sluggishly powered on.

"You did it for the convenience of your reports, and maybe of the convenience of this." Jazz wiggled his fingers between the pair. "If it truly was for brotherly love and safety, you'd have gone yourself," Jazz argued, carefully keeping his body language and voice friendly. "Just so you know what he might say."

Prowl still defended, "I was in the midst of working a highly important datapad and couldn't take the time. If Smokescreen takes on some of my work, I may not have to request others to fetch him."

"Good luck winning with that argument."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "It's logical and ultimately benefits him."

"I stand by my last statement: good luck winning with that argument."

"Alright, what would you say?"

Jazz rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and imagined the conversation a few times. "Don't sound like you're blaming or accusing him. Even if he was blindly overcharge next to dangerous equipment, it won't help you any to point that out. I'm sure Hide would take care of him if it's anything that bad. Wait, do you know how bad?"

"No. I intend to talk to Ironhide first so I will by then."

"Okay, so try dropping the Enforcer and Big Brother act. Chat like family before you ask for help."

"He's the older brother."

"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean by Big Brother act. I know Smokey and Blue have both said it _to_ you and _about_ you."

' _It's not an act_ ,' Prowl rebutted. Given the topic, there was no point in arguing Prowl would always have the mentality of an Enforcer, Head of Tactical, and SIC. "So during this 'chat like family', perhaps I should ask if he needs help? If he really was doing something foolish like drinking around a hazardous area."

Jazz rolled his helm back to Prowl. "Not unless you see some red flags. Otherwise you'll put him on the defensive. How about you ask him if he's got hots for anyone. What's his plans for when he's off-duty? Is he still thinking about throwing that party you heard some 'Bots mention a bit back?"

"I didn't hear that."

"I did, and now you've heard it from me. You really don't ask much about their free time plans?"

"Bluestreak I do at times when I'm prepared to listen to the detailed plans, but Smokescreen's activities are not always something we can talk about. We both used to try at least a little. There's only so much carefully guarded exchanged words to be had when my roles have always been about enforcing laws and regulations, and at least half of his time is dedicated to anything but that. We've since come to an understanding that I don't ask and he doesn't tell, with few exceptions."

"Never easy, huh?"

"I wouldn't say 'never', but I believe some live by the motto 'family isn't easy,' and ours is no exception."

"True for some, and I guess your family's mash up reads a bit like a sitcom."

"What?"

His answer was a cocky grin. "Maybe off-duty we can watch something and see if you get the idea? Maybe back in my quarters? I can move my portable entertainment into the washracks."

"Why on Earth and Cybertron would you do that?"

Jazz's grin faltered but he caught himself before it became a grimace. "You need a new paintjob. I can grab paint nanites, polish, and the works to set up shop in my washracks."

Prowl looked himself over before remembering the scratches on his arm. He pulled his arms up so the scratched forearms were better visible.

Jazz murmured, "Yeah, those. And I noticed you could use a fresh paint job all around. Some of your touch ups aren't as matching as I thought. But mostly those." Jazz reached out and softly grasped Prowl's elbows, tugging Prowl's forearms into his chassis. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"There's no need to be sorry," Prowl dismissed. "The damage is superficial and completely accidental." If anything needed to stop hurting, it was that twist in his spark. That hadn't gone entirely away since Jazz's nightmare since it probably only happened because Prowl put connecting to his terminal to fully process and file reports above Jazz's needs, despite the several major signs that not all was right with the mech.

"I'm still not going to shrug it off," Jazz argued, hating seeing the damage.

"I refuse to hold you to anything about it," Prowl argued back, not letting that twist in his spark get worse.

"You're not holding me to anything, I'm _insisting_."

"I don't want you to think you have to insist. I'm a fully-capable mech, able to repair accidental damage in easily accessible places. You may have a fuller workload after the meeting, and you don't need to try and balance that with fitting a repainting in your schedule."

"Hey, I'm damn skilled at schedule manipulation." Jazz pulled Prowl's arms closer, folding his arms around Prowl's and effectively pinning them to the saboteur's chassis. "I'm not letting go of these arms until you give into my insistence, as a fully-capable mech who wants to undo what he did. _And_ repaint the rest of your fame. You want these arms back, you have to agree to let me paint you before the end of our orn."

Prowl tugged his arms back, only succeeding in pulling Jazz with him.

"Nope," the Polyhexian remarked.

Again Prowl huffed, and his engine revved. "Fine, but only if you let me do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet," Prowl admitted, "but I'll find something." Something that'll undo that unpleasant spark-feel.

"Okay, so we're agreed: you'll come by my quarters later for painting, and you'll something-TBD at a date-TBD."

"Yes. Agreed. Now may I have my arms back?"

Jazz kissed the tops of Prowl's hands and then let go. "I'll get the equipment and just say I convinced you to update your paint if we did so privately."

Prowl tucked his arms into his sides, more to hide the evidence than keep Jazz from capturing them again. ' _I'll be doing that for the rest of my shift. At least few see me… in my office… except I have more meetings than normal this orn, of all orns._ '

Jazz asked, "So there's no need to wash before shift now that we've got plans for later, what should we do now?" He grinned and licked his lips playfully.

"I know what you're thinking, and if anything that would cause a need to wash and thereby defeat your plans. I'll need to paint these scratches with at least one coat. Between meeting with Ironhide, meeting with Smokescreen, the debrief meeting, and then meeting with Trailbreaker, I doubt I can completely hide them or properly explain them away," Prowl hesitantly explained.

Jazz's optics narrowed, his face pinched. "I'll do it. Where's your repair kit and paint?"

Prowl pushed his arms behind him. "No, _I'll_ do it. You relax and watch something that'll help before the meeting."

Jazz tried reaching Prowl's outermost arm but the Praxian rolled backwards, half off the berth. "I can do both, relaxing and watching; repairing and painting."

He still refused by just further rolling away, trying to untangle his legs without accidently pushing himself off the berth. "I'm going to get up, go to my washracks, and lock the door unless you promise to stay here and relax."

The Polyhexian emitted a low growl and an engine rev. There was no way he was going to sit on a chair and watch TV like nothing happened, all the while Prowl holed himself up to repair the damage he'd done. Jazz twisted his legs free and extended the topside one until his knee grazed Prowl's interface cover. When Prowl involuntarily jerked forward Jazz extended the same leg to use his ped to pet the doorwing's bottom edge, now within reach.

"Cheat!" Prowl gasped. He pulled further away only to suddenly realize he was slipping downward. His hands shot out to grab the berth before he landed on a doorwing.

Jazz anticipated the fall. He reached out and snatched Prowl's hands and rolled down with him, the leg previously molesting the doorwing landing on the floor and the other one kneeling, the lower leg loosely wrapped around Prowl's thigh. He held Prowl's upper half up, keeping Prowl from harm. He smirked at the stunned mech. "As always, the more agile and adaptable mech wins. I captured your arms again, so they're mine to decide what to do. We're going to sit down on the chairs – you seriously need to get a couch – and I'm going to take care of these scratches while we watch something."

Prowl huffed and sagged backwards when his tac-set popped up a notification about energy levels and the projected losses if this kept up. "I don't have the energy to fight you this early into the orn, but I do have the mindset." He wagged his finger in warning. "Don't try getting smart."

"Don't worry, I'm plenty confident in my intelligence that I don't need to _get_ smart." His smirk doubled as he pulled Prowl up. "Now, you get the repair kit and paint kit, I'll pick something short to watch."

Prowl muttered about Jazz's idea of intelligence didn't necessarily mean smart as he fetched the kits. Jazz pushed the chairs into place, mentally running through the list of what he left preloaded on Prowl's systems. Prowl's personal entertainment recorders were either not short enough or not entertaining. ' _Then again, I don't want Prowl to be difficult about this, so I guess I better pick something from his list._ '

Prowl placed the kits on the modulated table, opening them each up. He pulled out the repair material that kept paint from interfering with plating mesh healing and a bottle of white touchup. He crinkled his optic ridges as he studied the label closely. "What did you mean by my touchup paint not matching? This is white, shade #255-F6."

"Hate to break it to you, but either you've had bad bottles or that shade color isn't nearly as locked in as you think. Now sit, the video is coming up."

"Is this one of your sitcoms?"

"Nah, maybe later. This is one of the sections of your Earth military strategy histories. The one you and I were watching some mega-orns ago. I figured I'd restart it where I last remembered."

Prowl angled his body straight at Jazz but his arms were loose in his lap instead of on the table. Curiosity got his attention first and his helm was turned to the screen. "Ah yes, Zhuge Liang. Granted I'm Cybertronian tactician and not a feudal-istic era human tactician, but I still consider some of the success stories associated at him interesting. Such as the story coming on now, known as 'Empty Fort Strategy.' I cannot believe…"

Prowl started going on about what the video's topic, talking over it or adding his points. Jazz softly smiled as he made sure the paint nanites and mesh-plating protection were properly mixed for consistent application. It shouldn't be a problem with nanites, but Jazz questioned the age and care of the bottles, if maybe the reason Prowl's paint was off a little was because of neglected paint supplies.

He leaned over the table and guided Prowl's arm onto the table, palm up. Prowl glanced at him and opened his mouth to protest having his arm held, only to be interrupted by the narrator's voice pick up. Prowl returned to commenting on the video. Jazz was completely forgotten as Prowl snarked about the lack of alternative plans devised by the other army's leader.

The plan worked, going exactly as Jazz suspected. In building a comfort level with Prowl beyond their previous non-physical relationship status, he found out Prowl was the worst to be around when watching anything tactical or strategic, if one cared about the video. In private, the mech could _not_ stop pointing out practicality, the story's time period, realistic portrayals, praise or condemnation for opportunities of that environment and time, known missed considerations, the lack of coverage on what made the person(s) pick a particular plan over other plans, and so forth.

If the movie/show was primarily a social commentary, Prowl's face had a glazed over look and he rarely verbalized any thoughts about it. A few times Jazz caught him sneaking a hardlined datapad between Jazz's couch cushions. Yet, if it had enough military or tactical involved then Prowl could almost be mistaken as someone who should never go to movie theaters. Perhaps the consequence of Prowl getting comfortable around him was Prowl not silencing himself so much, disinterested in making any personal connection with others. Jazz smiled some more at the memories.

The visored mech grabbed the small brush and dipped it into the repair bottle. His other hand applied just enough pressure on Prowl's hand to keep it firmly in place.

"If someone on my team behaved like Sima Yi did during this so-called 'attack', I'd have demoted him and send him back to training. He didn't even fake a retreat and have scouts double back to see what Liang was hiding beyond his gates. He just assumed he knew the nature of what Liang was hiding and completely ran away," Prowl continued, not pausing when the liquid was applied.

This went on while Jazz carefully applied it to one arm and then the other, able to pull it from Prowl's lap without fuss. Jazz kept the budding guilt at bay by focusing on the ultimate positive outcomes of this for both of them. Prowl's injuries were minor and this really was a reminder to have a serious discussion about these episodes before injuries needed medical intervention. Prowl's lack of negative response was reassuring that he could handle Jazz at his worst, when he needed support the most. Jazz never wanted Prowl to see him at his worst, and he still hadn't, but Jazz didn't have the luxury of promising to never let that happen. If sometime while their relationship was more than professional Jazz ever got captured, but one way or another he came back, Prowl would see him at his worst.

Jazz finished two coats of paint just in time for Prowl's schedule dictate his next moves. "Done, it's all dry."

Prowl stopped in mid-explanation and turned to his arms for inspections. Peering closely, he examined the faint lines, resulting from the lack of equal number of coats to the surrounding paint. "It should pass well enough. My preference for personal space exceeding arms-length will automatically keep anyone but Bluestreak from getting close enough to notice."

"Him and Ratchet," Jazz agreed as he resealed the containers. "During the mission debrief, try not to gesture towards screens or anyone. You _know_ he'll see it no matter how far away he's sitting."

"Very true. Bluestreak is scheduled for monitor duty this shift, so it'll be easy to avoid him. We should be fine. It's highly unlikely we'll need to craft the perfect cover story like the time when my chevron was bent and your elbow was gouged."

"Yeah, I'd like to avoid the whole 'blame Jazz for dancing around a blind corner while Prowl's helm was bowed because he was looking down at his reports while walking around the same corner'. So much awkward mocking by the officers and medbay."

"Just be happy Red didn't cry 'traitor' when you claimed deleting the footage to save face."

"Or that he didn't have such a fit to get Ratchet riled up and chew me out."

Prowl's chronometer alerted him to needing to leave for his shift very soon. "Time for me to head to my office. What's your plans?"

"I can hang back until Hide's gone, then go back to my quarters. I'll put the kits away while I wait." He glanced at the screen, still playing. ' _Perhaps I'll watch this a little so I know what you're criticizing. Maybe find something I can play devil's advocate for fun another orn and get your gears revved up.'_

"Alright." Prowl fetched his two datapads, tucking one into his side so it laid over the fresh paint, while holding the other to read so it did the same. "See you at the debrief."

"Yup. Take care until then. Remember: be a brother, not Big Brother."

Prowl nodded and exited, pivoting into the hall to face the exiting path when he found a mass right almost in front of him. "Ironhide," he fumbled.

Ironhide snorted at him. "Startled you, did I?"

"I wasn't expecting you to be out and about at this time."

"I'm leaving to get Smoke out of the brig. I figure a talking-to is in order instead of sending someone to let him out."

"So he was around dangerous equipment?"

"No, he wasn't in any danger. He was actually on the right side of the zone line, but as close as he could get."

"Did he say why?"

"Nah, and neither did the twins. When I was walking Smoke back to the brig, Blue came by. Gave Smoke a dirty look and didn't say anything. Smoke was sulking even more after that, so I'm guessing Blue knows. I figured if it's a fam' thing, you should talk to them instead of me butting in."

"Thank you. Will you come by my office after you speak to Smokescreen? I have him scheduled to visit me during my refuel break." Prowl actually had different intentions than just speaking about Smokescreen, but it'd behoove of him to find out additional details.

"That'll be fun. Sure, I'll swing by on my way to say hi to Prime. But then I'm out until it's debrief meeting time. It is my vacation time."

"You were scheduled for an off-duty three-orn break in duties, not a vacation." Prowl wasn't trying to be impolite, but Ironhide's statement seemed inaccurate. "Otherwise you'd have taken that trip you've been talking about."

Ironhide snorted at him again, aware that Prowl likely didn't realize his rudeness. "This is as close to a vacation as I'm getting until we get more 'Bots here to kick aft. No 'duty-free orn' breaks with an asterisk. Trust me, I'm looking forward to having a vacation where if something happens there'll actually be enough officer coverage to deal with it."

A couple of ped steps later Ironhide split off, heading toward the brig. Prowl focused on his work, per usual, as he made his way to his to the Officers Rec Room.

"Hi, Prowl!"

Prowl entered the Officers Rec room and noted Inferno alone and holding one sealed energon cube, while finishing a second. "Good morning, Inferno."

"Here," the security mech said with an offer of the sealed cube.

Prowl took an obliged sip. "Thank you. Are you collecting for you and Red Alert?"

"Yup. As usual he started just before the shift change." Inferno finished his cube and grabbed a third to replace the one he gave away. "Think I'm spoiling him. He's gotten too use to me bringing him energon. He keeps starting his shifts earlier and leaving later. Ah well. Worse things than making sure a workaholic stays fueled."

Prowl opted for a silent response, knowing he was classified as a workaholic, offering only a half-nod as way of acknowledging Inferno's conversation. He sipped the energon once more and then moved to coffee.

"At least you get your own energon about half the time," Inferno continued when the energon reached the half-full mark. "And Jazz often remedies the other half."

"Sorry?" Prowl asked as his spark stopped spinning for a split-klik.

"I see Jazz walking around with 2 cubes plenty, and everyone knows he harps on you to keep yourself better cared. Kinda like what I'm doing now to Red." Inferno finished the last cube and held both up as an example.

"So do my brothers, when they're working a different shift or out enjoying a duty-free orn," Prowl offered, willing his voice to stay level after he noticed an increased pitch. "Did Wheeljack leave me a note?" He added, quickly seeing his name on a sloppily-written note stuck to a device attached to the Coff-E dispenser that Prowl hadn't seen when he was last in the vicinity.

"Didn't notice. I heard Jack tinkered with that to make it taste better, but I figure it's best to wait out others trying it first. 'Cause you know that if I like it, then Red'll want to try it. There's a few mechs I'd like to see try it first since their reaction is probably a lot closer to what Red's would be than mine."

Prowl plucked the note free. Signed by Wheeljack, it read, "Prowl, I thought about how you were working late and I figured you'd probably need a max dose before the debrief. I put a couple of max doses in this box and added a bypass if you push the – ," a set of squiggly-looking set of lines with some crossing, " – button. Push and hold. Beware, it smells and probably tastes something fiercely awful since it also bypasses all flavor corrections for now. DO NOT take more than one test cup every four hours, unless you really wanna repeat that special jump-scare moment you, me, and Ratchet once had."

Prowl instantly deciphered Jack's hidden meaning by recalling the incident where Prowl's sudden panicked reaction from Wheeljack's questionable testing methods left Ratchet angry and almost short half a finger. More than one cup and Prowl might find himself highly agitated and anxious, and likely needing medical interference for both himself and a cursed Wheeljack.

"What's _that_ ," Inferno started, peering over Prowl's shoulder, "a bacon button?"

"What's bacon?"

"Human food."

"Then it's clearly not a bacon button. It's a… a…" Prowl looked for the actual button. "Button to release hot air exhaust?"

"Huh. Maybe that stuff is extra heated with the exhaust air from a dispenser motor, or something. Or it could be just the closest spare button and it doesn't mean anything."

Prowl stared at the button. "I'm just not going to think about it. Wheeljack knows to not risk incapacitating the head of Tactical right before a mission debrief."

He set aside his datapads and regular energon cube to grab a cup. He placed it under the dispenser and slowly pushed the button. An ugly churning sound rewarded him and he contemplated reneging on his plans. He almost released the button when the noise morphed into chugging and a blackened, char-like energon pumped out, heat billowing in his direction. The Coff-E was liquid and its consistency was well mixed, but that was small comfort.

"Ewww," Inferno said from behind Prowl's shoulder. "That smells like a well-used but never cleaned smelter."

"Indeed." Prowl put the cup down by his items and applied a seal. He resealed his partially-consumed cube. "Something I'll work up the courage on my way to my office. I wish you and Red Alert a good shift."

"You too."

Prowl made his way to his office, using his wings to navigate him as he watched his full hands to make sure nothing dropped. He reached his office without disruption and finished drinking his regular energon as he went through his shift-start routine. Prowl connected himself, the only one datapad he managed to finish, and the terminal all together.

[[User initiated action…]] his tac-set started as soon as he issued a command identical to his last shift start. [[Results…]]

Prowl requested from his terminal that all work from before Jazz's nightmare was verified as properly uploaded. He used the few kliks to stare at the sealed cup. Despite going to recharge sooner than he planned, he was tired. Jazz's episode had his energon pumping harder, and he didn't get so much extra recharge to offset the exhaustion from the fear of not having a plan to get Jazz out of the nightmare.

With significant trepidation he reached for the cup and commanded that his olfactory sensors be disabled. Taste receptors couldn't be _fully_ disabled, though, as they doubled as an auto-defense mechanism to know if there was something wrong with any fuel or ingredients. The first sip burned his glossa like it just might have been from a smelter and he gagged it down, if only because there was nowhere quick enough to spit it out. His refuse bin was by the door since Prowl almost never generated waste. Waste usually came from his visitors or reprimanded mechs.

He pushed back down the seal and restarted his efforts on effectively delegating. About 20 breems into his shift there was a ping at his door before it slid away for Ironhide. The visiting mech started opening his mouth but suddenly paused, drawing in a deep vent through his nose. "What's the smell? Is it that cup's black stuff?"

"My apologies. I haven't turned back on my olfactory sensors yet and must not have fully resealed it. It's that Coff-E but with a higher concentration of whatever gives that extra energy boost. The boost came at the cost of bypassing all flavor corrections. While I've never before allowed pleasantries of taste affect my refueling habits, it appears I finally found an exception."

Ironhide sat down but leaned away from the cup. "Need the boost? I remember you saying you couldn't fetch Smoke because you were processing a heap of data."

"Unfortunately. I have a long list of items to get through."

Ironhide shrugged. "Then chug it."

"I've never done that. It's important to always examine and analyze any digested material for contaminates or poisons." Prowl took hold of the drink, slowly peeling back the seal. He observed Ironhide's reaction as more surface area of the drink became exposed, the way his nose ridge wrinkled and the corners of his optics crinkled. He missed the hard swallow of Ironhide's gag.

"Unless you really think Jack lets poisons into his non-weaponized concoctions, then chug it. As ugly as it looks, I don't see contaminates. If you think there's poison in there, then you need to go to Medbay for a processor check."

Prowl frowned and gave it a try, gagging only slightly when it still skimmed along the back of his glossa. He looked back down, seeing that there was a little left.

"Practice makes perfect. Chug it again," the older mech chortled, catching Prowl's small gag.

"I don't require advice," Prowl replied, biting back the added comment about how there was almost nothing Ironhide could order him to do.

"And I don't need to smell that. Keep going until that slag's gone and then I'll give you a quick rundown of Smoke's release."

Prowl did it once more and managed to succeed in finishing it without letting it touch his glossa where he could taste it. He turned back on his olfactory sensors and gestured with his helm for Ironhide to start.

"I actually don't have much more than I already told you, I just wanted to see you get through finishing that off," Ironhide confessed, his smile smug. "That's for making me come here when I don't have to."

Prowl's optics narrowed into a sharp glare. "So you didn't talk to him?"

"I did, but it's not like he's any freer with the truth or his feelings than you are, when he gets like that. Something's got him still upset, beyond brig time, but still wouldn't say why. I comm'ed the twins on my way here and they're also still refusing to give an answer. Really, the biggest reason I put him in the brig was Smokey started getting real uppity with me, and I told him I'd toss him in the brig for stupidity for back-talking an officer."

"And since I know this story ends with him in the brig, I'll take it that he didn't stop."

"Not long enough to think his next words through," Ironhide confirmed. "I thought about sending him to his quarters but didn't know if his reason for being upset was 'cause of his roommate. At least the brig is empty."

"I'll see to it finding the cause and a remedy. Thank you."

"Sure. If it's fam' business, tell him to deal with it ASAP. Dragging it out never helps. I remember this one time…" Prowl allowed Ironhide to tell his story while assessing the effects of the Coff-E. In addition to using the time to monitor his internal changes, he knew allowing the old mech to reminisce would increase the chances for better reception to Prowl's plan to get Ironhide to voluntarily kick himself out of his own room.

Ironhide finished about the time Prowl's focus sharpened to as if he'd achieved almost a whole two extra joors of recharge. ' _I can learn to quickly drink Coff-E if this is the trade off_ ,' he mused. "What times those must have been," Prowl replied in false awareness of the story's contents. "How different, and yet same in some ways, the situations are now from then. Whatever the remedy is now I'll see to it that it doesn't risk roster vacancies."

"Always important. Prime and I were talking about that. I think it was around the time when you went after Jazz for putting off the reports?"

"Perhaps. I didn't listen to your conversations and thus couldn't say for certainty about the topic. You, Prime, and Ratchet in your quarters that night so it's plausible."

"I can't believe you went after him. He finally settles down after almost a mega-orn of trouble and you don't let him rest even for one solid recharge." Ironhide's tone lacked an obvious accusation, but Prowl fully recognized the firm reprimand in his words.

"Lessons must be learned," Prowl replied, doing what he could to avoid an outright lie. Although his tac-set had no qualms about lies, his spark always sent unpleasant pangs his way for lying unnecessarily. It was true, but the lesson was more his to learn than Jazz's: how to avoid suspicion when wanting privacy that requires passing through a public area. "I did also make sure he was acceptable to return to officer duties, as First Aid wasn't sure relaxation and recharge would suffice."

"That's mighty nice of you."

"I was simply fulfilling my responsibilities."

"Nah, simply fulfilling your responsibilities would be sending Jazz an official reminder about making sure he'd be able to resume his duties or else notify us officers about him needing to take absence for the orn."

Prowl tried dancing around the possible reasons Ironhide might think of as to why Prowl went beyond his normal routine for others, awkwardly aware of his every expression, doorwing twitch, and intonation.

[[New AI initiated action…]] His tac-set automatically started working without a request.

' _Great,_ ' Prowl muttered. He hadn't actually commanded it to go into standby when Ironhide entered, so it wasn't necessarily a warning flag. It provided data-related assistance as he spoke. "The chances of a Special Ops training exceeding the planned time has a historical 18% chance of occurring. Of that, just under 2% is due to critical mission events usurping the training. The last training exercise that Jazz ran with agents completely unfamiliar with the terrain was over 10 vorns ago," he explained, ignoring time lost from stasis. "In addition, the purpose of the training was learning how to adapt mission parameters and extractions as needed to a cold, ice-patch-laced organic world. The closest training Jazz has been involved with that closely matches those obstacles was before he became TIC.

"Based on that parameters not related to the Decepticon discovery, I calculated a 9.5% chance that Jazz would not or could not safely resume his duties the following shift, upon his return. After the Decepticon discovery, adding those previously mentioned parameters, on top of the lacking backup options and the open-ended extended duration, my calculations increased to 74% by the time Jazz finally returned. Given the high percentage, I opted to verify myself instead of sending an official reminder."

Prowl folded his hands and kept everything about his face and posture neutral. ' _There, that shouldn't raise suspicion._ '

"In that light it sounds reasonable. Also sounds like you're speaking tac-set talk again."

Prowl stared at Ironhide for a moment before making sense of the statement. "I'm speaking strategically, not as a conduit for the tac-set."

"Having heard you speak strategically with and without the tac-set, I can tell. You're talking for the tac-set."

Prowl barely caught and stifled an involuntary sigh. He had other priorities than to go down this avenue again, with the mech's latest interest in insisting everyone try be a little less war-hardened, outside of actual war-related duties and situations. Which to Prowl that meant the time between putting down the datapad and offlining for recharge. Even if he managed to not take his reports with him to his quarters, he always made sure to plan for the following shift before shutting down for recharge. He still didn't quite grasp what others made of the idea of being less war-focused outside of duties and potential combat situation, other than several 'Bots tried making high-grade more often.

Back during his time interacting with others when his tac-set was completely offline, while his spark's healing stabilized, Ironhide seem to fixate on the differences as signs of war-hardened Prowl versus "the real Prowl." The whole concept was not one he merited, but others did, and it was exactly why he banged on Jazz's door instead of calmly insisting he be allowed inside. They weren't going to try and rope him into "free time" conversations if he was uninviting.

Prowl worked on bringing the conversation back in line with his hidden agenda. "Whatever the case may be, I spoke to Jazz until _I_ was certain he settled down into a safe state to partially resume his duties. However, I apologize if my approach disrupted your 'vacation.' I suppose I'm not used to recreational activities in the officers' quarters hall, or at least entertaining while leaving the door open."

Ironhide shifted, more to get comfortable than in response to the possible meanings behind the vocalized observation. "Well, those quarters aren't made to host more than a handful of average-sized mechs, and less if you get mechs who talk with their hands. Given that me and most of my visitors are at least on the upper end of average size, sometimes we need the door open or spilling out into the hallway for space."

"True, the ship was designed to meet acceptable measures of comforts during travels. It was never meant to become a base."

"Hence the expansion."

"Yes, speaking of which," Prowl paused to fetch a datapad, "I noticed there's been talk among others about some potential work near the officers' hallway but there's a lack of storage for tools, equipment, and such. The best available is the double storage closest near the training area." He pulled up the layout plan showing their hallway, pointed to the areas that might require work.

There weren't any actual plans in development for the officers' hallway because any new officers would be housed near the soldier quarters for monitoring, but that didn't mean an argument couldn't be made about potential future plans.

"That's not what someone carrying equipment would call close," Hide replied with a helm shake.

"No. I've been considering other options. I realized that those storage closets were originally designed to be more like room inserts, capable of supporting any standard functional room." He pulled up the schematics for the area. "The south wall is already set to be able to accept anything of that nature, from an office, to a recreational area, to even quarters. The middle wall is more of a divider than anything else. It isn't even load-bearing."

"Okay…?" Ironhide let it hang there, sensing the direction of this conversation.

"From this conversation and what I already suspected, you need more room for more visitors, especially for the bigger mechs and their hand-talking. We could remove the divider, add a few hookups would allow for private washracks, and construct an inner wall layout for plenty of open entertainment space. Based on that, I thought perhaps you might consider it? The location would also cut down on how much travelling you need to do for most of your routine or urgent matters. We could turn your current quarters into a temporary storage area, and perhaps later repurpose it either for another officer or something practical."

"Huh, so you're asking me if I'll move?" Ironhide mused, rubbing his chin with his palm. Prowl let the question hang rather than speak to confirm. "Would make my life easier, 'though Ratchet and Prime might begrudge the walk."

"With Prime's stride, I doubt he'll much notice," Prowl dryly dismissed, despite the distance change not exactly being negligible for all but those too tall to fit inside the ship. "If certain bits and pieces from Red Alert's convoluted quasi-conniptions about Ratchet's inclinations towards... repeat private company... is what I think it is, then Ratchet can easily work it out."

Ironhide's optics widened at that comment. " _Ahhh huummm_ , you and Red know about that?"

"I'm not asking for confirmation or denial, nor am I going to elaborate further. I'm merely pointing it out so that you don't make a decision based on your own assumptions." The comment was a risk, leaving it open to potential questions. Prowl hoped the gambit paid off, that Ironhide would go for the out rather than press why Prowl would overlook something a known rule-abider would investigate, at minimum.

Ironhide mulled some more over the offer, absconding his initial concerns for person comforts for the possibility of leaking matters he didn't think were of Prowl's business. "Red might cause some considerable disruptions with security measures on dividing up the officers."

"I'm sure a scaled version of the current security grid can be incorporated to secure the proposed new location, with minimal disruption to daily activities once the conversion is completed. Is that a yes or a maybe? I'd like to have any work change forms processed ASAP, given what's already active."

"I don't want everyone watching what's or who's coming and going like it's a theater."

"I'm sure Grapple will be happy to put his skills to use for you and design effective means of privacy beyond the door."

"Alrighty then. I'm not saying a definite yes, but a yes if it's converted right. That includes washracks the size I want, where I want it, and an actual berthroom. Move the dividing wall instead of tearing it down. Make it a proper officer quarters."

"I'll bring you a datapad with the forms prepared when we meet for the debrief meeting."

"That fast? Don't you have more important matters?" One of the weapons mech's optics scrutinized the tactician.

Prowl's doorwings flicked up before he could stop them. "Everyone has the right to be happy, and it sounds like this opportunity could be very important to you." His monotone voice had a few distinctly non-monotone inflections in that answer. He tried again. "Delaying the execution of this move would probably leave you and your get-togethers in limbo, and that can generate other problems."

Ironhide's other optic narrowed.

Prowl added, "Administrative problems. For example."

He stared at the mech for several kliks. "Sure, for example. Sounds like legit reasoning."

"It is."

"Okay, then. If that's all you got to say about me moving."

"It is. Enjoy your free time until the meeting."

"Sure. Be seeing you," Ironhide bid farewell, backing up slowly instead of immediately turning and walking towards the exit.

Once alone Prowl snapped back to managing his workload until he could break to start the forms for Ironhide. Only then did his processor belatedly process that he'd actually achieved a step towards spending time with Jazz. His hands stopped over the controls as the realization caught up. They quivered and his spark spun faster. _'I'm either emotionally affected by this or that Coff-E's effect is still growing. Perhaps both?'_ He tried digging into the source, but found too many unknowns. He considered lowering the emotion filters to better "hear" his spark.

[[New AI initiated action… Recommendation over course-of-action: Set additional alerts for elevated neuro-net activities, then return to work. Disregard considerations for emotion evaluation. Smokescreen's arrival is expected within 4 joors.]]

Prowl frowned but agreed, leaving the filters alone and shaking his hands out. He filled out the forms, acutely focused on them and doing his best to ignore a tingling sensation that was borderline disruptive. ' _This must be what Inferno meant when he said the Coff-E gave Red Alert jitters.'_

Many reports later his door chimed. Prowl disconnected and cycled his vents slowly in preparation for Smokescreen's visit and his intent to reconnect something despite the strained familiar relationship.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Start A/N:_**

 _Sorry about the delay! I hit a massive writer's block and other stuff. Good news: Muses are back and now I'm in the middle of writing chapter 13, so I can post when I polish the other rough drafts._

* * *

"Come in, Smokescreen," Prowl called when Smokescreen didn't enter without prompting.

"Not just me," Smokescreen replied after a short delay when the door opened.

Prowl tilted his helm to see just beyond a gap between Smokescreen's arm nestling a cube a to see a very familiar frame. "Hello, Bluestreak." Prowl slowly rotated his arms so the scratches laid flat on the desk surface.

"Hi, Prowl!" Bluestreak called over Smokescreen's shoulder as the pair walked into the office, single-file until they were clear of the doorway. He lifted one of the two cubes in hand. "Got yours right here."

"Not that I'm opposed to you coming," Prowl began as he mindfully accepted the handed cube, "but this is a working break. And your monitor duty break isn't scheduled at the same time as mine."

"I know," Bluestreak smiled, the corners of his mouth barely rising. Smokescreen sat down, muttering more to himself. "But it was both of us or none of us, so I switched breaks with Beachcomber."

"Was never _ordered_ here," Smokescreen grumbled, his volume increasing from his muttering.

' _A fallacy on my end to assume an order was necessary_ ,' Prowl retorted. Responding to the bitter comment with admonishment wouldn't be of benefit, but silent reprimands mollified his displeasure in the matter. "Are you suffering any hangover?"

Bluestreak sat down and nudged the silent brother when he'd settled but gave no answer. Smokescreen grunted, "Barely."

Bluestreak glared briefly at Smokescreen. "Thanks for helping get Smokey somewhere safe."

Smokescreen started, "Yeah, thanks for sending your – ow!" He stopped short and glared at the one pinching a low corner of his doorwing. A returned glare stopped him and he recalled the conversation with Blue easily. His optics twitched but he smoothed out his expression. Bluestreak did the same after Smokescreen. "Yeah, thanks," he said with only a hint of a scrunched nose in Prowl's direction.

' _I'm already lost,_ ' Prowl realized when no reply of familiar solidarity came to mind.

[[New AI initiated – ]]

[[Cancel query.]]

Prowl carefully worded his original defense after reconsidering it when roleplaying this conversation out with Jazz. "I would have come myself, but I was in the middle of a datafeed to the tac-set that needed to be finished before the primary shift started. Ironhide seemed more appropriate for you of all the officers, given he's also the least likely to bother filing a report. When he does, it's usually bare minimum. I checked and he hasn't filed anything."

"Jazz is the same way when it comes to minor infractions. What about him? At least he takes things more in stride when he catches someone."

Smokescreen's reply made sense but Prowl wasn't about to confess about wanting Jazz elsewhere, even if Prowl wasn't able to do anything with him. His reluctance was not only based on missing pieces of family bonding, but the knowledge Smokescreen had previously gambled away Prowl's personal information to Jazz for the right winnings, and the other mech present had a tendency to blurt out random details during stressed babbling.

"Jazz's schedule showed he was engaged with Special Ops communication updates with Blaster, whereas Ironhide was free."

"Could've called him. You know he never works perfectly in-sync with his schedule like you do," Smokescreen began to argue back.

Bluestreak elbow-jabbed Smokescreen and looked into Prowl's face to keep either one from continuing. "How's it been? Haven't seen you much since you didn't need us anymore."

Prowl weighed his options about the offered open-ended question. "I'm sorry for the lack of interaction. I know for a while you grew accustomed to it, while I was under Ratchet's mandatory escort restrictions. My health is either the same or better since he lifted those requirements, but my time is less free than Prime hoped. Everyone's enthusiasm to improve this unintended base so it truly meets base-status requirements, in addition to requesting their missed friends here, adds substantial work under my areas of responsibilities."

"Like what?" the sniper asked.

"Significant rises in reports, documentations, Earth permits, overseeing the replenishing and consumption of Earth materials, staffing, and such come to my desk."

Smokescreen raised an optic ridge, coupled with a half-frown. "I thought Prime was in charge of human-Autobot things such as meetings and permits. Something about humans requiring an authorized signature. Thought you were sharing the Earth stock stuff with Hide."

Bluestreak squinted his optics between his two brothers. "How can Prowl not be an authorized signature? He's the SIC of the entire Autobot army. How's his approval or word not enough?"

"That's not what the signature is about," Prowl corrected. "As we work out all the finer details of the nature of our relationship and our needs on their planet, the humans want one appointee for everything to simplify immediate needs. Since he's Prime and an effective speaker on compassion and togetherness and whatnot, Optimus makes for the best appointed representative for us. I work on preparing what he needs while he's indisposed. Regarding Ironhide, he usually takes care of scheduled deliveries and special orders while I take care of post-delivery. I had to put in a special order last orn since he's off-duty."

" _Ooooh_. Can't someone else do that?"

"Hopefully, when we have more Autobots here." When Sideswipe's talent for trades and negotiation was getting more notoriety Prowl received an "anonymous" request for having Sideswipe take over a part of that process. Prowl shot that down so fast that the request hadn't finished loading.

Prowl took a drink from his cube, as did the others. "How are you both doing?"

Smokescreen had his mouth half open, his optics laden with a deadpan glare, when Bluestreak jabbed again with his elbow. The eldest closed his mouth, thought about his response, and then gave a reply that didn't match the look on his face. "Peachy."

"I'm doing alright," Bluestreak replied. He took a drink and the other two obligingly did the same. "Earlier when I was driving in I saw some black birds obeying the road markings by not caring about moving cars 'cause the birds were on the other side of the white lines. Black birds are smarter than I think, which is kind of creepy?"

"Crows," Smokescreen corrected. "We have crows here."

Prowl wanted to steer the conversation back to work before Bluestreak got off on a tangent on birds, but the start of Bluestreak's mini-story had him instead saying, "When you say 'earlier', are you referring to before the start of this shift? Because if that's the case, I'm curious to know why you were driving in for monitor duty."

Bluestreak's optics flew wide and this time Smokescreen elbowed him. The youngest almost squeaked, "What, a mech can't stay up instead of recharge so he can go out and have fun? I can fun. I have lots of fun."

Prowl kept his optics leveled on Bluestreak.

Bluestreak squirmed and blurted out, "It's not against regulations to go out when I'm off-duty and within battle scrambling range!"

Smokescreen changed tactics and pinched Bluestreak's squirmy elbow. "Hush up!"

Prowl's stare lost its effect when the plating around his optics went lax. "So, let me see if I understand what details I have in the correct order: Smokescreen decides to drink until he's overcharged right by a construction zone, when Smokescreen is being walked to brig by Ironhide he's passed by an unhappy Bluestreak, and then Bluestreak leaves base grounds for the remainder of his off-duty time without coming back to get at least some recharge."

The other two exchanged careful glances. Smokescreen turned away first, to face Prowl. "I'm invoking my right to silence."

"This isn't an interrogation."

"Sure feels like one," Smokescreen sulked.

Bluestreak's optics diverted away from Prowl's, focusing on the back of the computer terminal. "Are you sure you properly cleaned the back here? 'Cause I think I see some dust. That's bad for the computer. I could help you clean later and you could tell me more about your orn, or how you normally end it now that you're free of escorts."

The middle brother's stare didn't improve, his expression looking more and more glossed over. ' _So it appears I can't maintain a brotherly persona without slipping into a Big Brother one for more than two breems_ ,' he thought offhandedly. ' _Now what?_ ' Prowl needed to solve his workload problem but there was clearly another problem he was missing. The issue with that was he didn't know how to broach the unknown problem.

[[New AI initiated action... Recommendation: inform Smokescreen and Bluestreak that the options are to explain the reasons in the deviations in their behavior or return to the original working-break purpose. Outcome: Based on historical data, estimated 79.5023% chance that Smokescreen will defer explaining his actions and accept workload. Estimated 80.1864% chance Bluestreak will accept Smokescreen's lead.]]

[[Go on standby,]] Prowl ordered, belatedly remembering the tac-set was only in an idle state before it ran through its proposed plan. He considered its recommendation despite the surprise. It was arguably a low blow, to use his brothers' discomfort to his own advantage. Getting Smokescreen to take on some of his work wouldn't solve their problems but his problems only. That left his tanks uneasy, doing something to get only what he wanted, even if that was his original intent.

He genuinely wanted to help, he realized. He just didn't know how to genuinely help, without an ulterior motive. Why was that?

[[New AI initiated action...]]

' _Damn it_ ,' Prowl grimaced. Whatever it was that had Ratchet insisting on a full reboot was clearly starting to return.

[[Recommendation: Position's requirement as Head of Tactical includes constant consideration for meeting the ultimate goal, victory over the Decepticons and survival of the Autobots. The likelihood of constant requirement for seeking achievement of ultimate goal creeping into other aspects of life is 0.0081% each mega-orn of active duty for general tactical positions, with an additional increase of 0.0916% per promotion, per mega-orn. Calculated for duration of User Prowl's active duty, compounded by promotions, calculations of User Prowl's role creep into dominating all aspects of life is 99.9847%.]]

' _To summarize, I can't_ not _think in such a military manner while I have a tactical mindset._ ' That realization rang truer than he'd like, but a mindset primed to always plan, plot, defend, and attack was now etched into every thought and every movement, and that didn't strip away like cheap paint.

Prowl's own processor started burning from trying to gain a firm grasp on the situation. He rubbed his temples by the pained processor portion, as if the coolness from the capillary coolant lines could penetrate the plating. For the moment he couldn't think of any way to help without motive, so with motive he would act.

Both Bluestreak and Smokescreen looked at each other again. Bluestreak drew out, "Are you okay?"

Smokescreen's shoulders hunched and he added, "That's not because of us, is it?"

"No, the tac-set is working on matters a battle computer shouldn't be working on, but given the expansion of my duties since arriving here it's also expanded its role through adaptive coding."

"Like what duties?" the non-tactical brother prompted. "I mean, besides the stuff for Prime's signatures and stuff."

"That makes up a large chunk of the new coding. The remaining of the new duties aren't so much 'new' as they are redundant. Being as spread out as our race is and between casualties of war in battle and out, holes in chains of command are being filled by Autobots not properly trained to be officers. The issue is more exasperated where there's extra vicious fighting with our enemies. Rank positions are either filled with stubborn dedicated fighters, or with those perceived as too weak to be deemed 'battle critical.' The first group wants to push everything through because they'd rather use the time between fights to fieldstrip and clean their weapons instead of rework the supplies distribution for the new helm count. The second group is too afraid to say 'no' to the first group, or ask for help."

"So what's that do to you?"

"I have more reports to work through, but we're also looking at staffing here for training until they've had sufficient enough time to rotate elsewhere."

"How many more reports?" Bluestreak asked.

"Than usual? An average of 67 per orn are newly open that meet that criteria. That's after the auto-reject filters for mislabeled reports."

Bluestreak's optics widened until Prowl thought the outer lens might pop out. "Whoa! No wonder we never see you anymore! Hey, maybe Smokey can help?"

"Hey not!" Smokescreen protested. "I have work things. And I'm divisionary tactics, not staffing tactics. I already do divisionary tactic analysis, be it coordinating between warfronts or making sure one's plans don't divert enemies right into another's with lesser standing."

"Doesn't hurt to learn more," Bluestreak retorted. "Maybe you could learn how to make a base have more standing. Or something. It's not like divisionary stuff is just blowing smoke up one's aft and face. Then you could, you know, work on it instead of getting overcharged when things don't go your way."

Prowl interrupted Smokescreen's reply. "What way? What happened that didn't go your way?"

Smokescreen closed his mouth, looked at Prowl, then glared at Bluestreak before looking back at Prowl. "If I agree to help you with your problems, will you stop asking about what's up with us?"

Prowl's spark shrunk almost painfully tiny, and something very unpleasant filtered through his emotional wall. His tac-set readily accepted the reply, seeing Smokescreen taking on Prowl's work while hiding so he couldn't be problematic as a complete win-win. "I won't ask you while you're here, but I make no promises about later."

"Seeing how I wasn't planning to stick around, that's not really a deal."

Bluestreak huffed. Smokescreen scowled. Prowl suddenly had an inkling that the two were having a private commlink conversation. His theory's merit increased when Smokescreen relented. "Okay, if I say 'yes' to the work, I get to leave now. Deal?"

"If that's what you wish. I can have a list of reports redirected to you in _Teletraan_ , so you won't need to wait here for them." Prowl's plan was to sit down with Smokescreen and go through the reports, talking each one or each group (depending on content) before reassigning them. However it was clear to him that type and level of interaction was too much to be welcomed by Smokescreen. Prowl really didn't know why.

[[New AI initiated – ]]

[[Stop,]] he commanded. The aggressive nature of the tac-set now incorporating his personal life was not helping him solve these matters.

Out loud Prowl added to his statement to Smokescreen, and Bluestreak by proxy, "I intended to use this refueling break to work with you to get through a few items. However, if you'd prefer I'd just assign several reports to you instead and let you be on your way to figure out what's needed, then I can do that."

"Okay, sounds like a good plan."

Bluestreak's optics slightly dimmed. "I wouldn't mind a working refuel break, but I don't think you have anything I can do."

"I'm sorry Bluestreak, but I don't." The crestfallen look on Bluestreak's face was painful to witness. "If you speak slower, I can allow the tac-set to work in the background and let you talk. I'll have to periodically check in with the tac-set and perhaps sign some reports, hence why you'd need to speak slower for me to get the details. Does that sound fair?"

"Yeah!"

"Sounds like I'm done, so I'm out," Smokescreen excused himself. "Later."

Bluestreak scowled, an unusual sight on him, and Smokescreen whipped his helm at him, scowling right back. They were definitely using comms.

"What's going on?" Prowl insisted, borderline demanded.

"Nothing!" They both replied.

Bluestreak added in an almost dry defense, "We're just being siblings. Stuff. That's all. We got it, don't worry."

"I can worry."

"Well, we don't want you to," Bluestreak insisted.

"Yeah, it's nothing that needs your involvement. Can't two brothers hash out things privately?" Smokescreen deflected.

'Now _I'm really lost. Before was nothing compared to this._ ' Prowl couldn't for the life of him think of a solid counterargument. "If that's your wish. I'm available to hear your sides and help mediate, if you change your minds."

"We're good. Bye," Smokescreen darted out of the room so neither brother could keep the conversation going.

Prowl looked to Bluestreak. "I don't suppose you'll tell me now that we're alone?"

"It's seriously not a big deal." Prowl knew that was a lie. Arguments between the two rarely got worse than a short dispute or two. "It's younger-brother/older-brother argument stuff. It'll blow over. "

"So now that I've got your attention, I was thinking maybe we could talk about what's happened with each of us in the eight-ish mega-orns since we've really hung out? Oh wait, you said you can't really interact while you work, huh? That's okay. I've been doing well." Bluestreak launched into stories, not speaking as slowly as Prowl hoped. Slow enough that he got most of the words whenever Prowl had to interact with the tac-set for longer than a few split-kliks or _Teletraaan_ , but certain not all.

Eventually Bluestreak's break ended and he left, a notable bounce in his departure's first steps. Prowl returned to prepping for the debriefing and in almost no time at all, it was time.


	8. Chapter 8

Prowl didn't need to worry too much about hiding his scratches when he departed early for the meeting, carrying datapads for each mech how'd be in attendance. His own report copies included a separate datapad so he could see reports and his notes at the same time.

Arriving at the Officers Debrief Room he saw Ironhide heartily laughing with a chuckling Prime. Carefully he set down his datapads and held his plus two more. He walked to the pair. "Hello Ironhide and Prime. Here's your datapads for the meeting." He held out each one a datapad when they gave him their full attention. "Ironhide, yours has those forms we talked about."

"Oh?" Prime asked, glancing at the datapad before focusing on Ironhide. "Are you changing something, Ironhide?"

"Yeah, kind of. Prowl here suggested I get myself bigger quarters and had some already considered. Looks like it could be a nice change, few things permitting." Ironhide gave Prowl a long sideways look. "He's pushing it through quickly. Something about administrative concerns and not leaving _me_ or my guests in limbo." Ironhide's "not leaving _me_ " comment had a heightened note, as if questioning.

"And as I said, those are my concerns. Please continue informing Prime. I need to lay out the rest of the datapads."

"Prowl," Optimus spoke before the Praxian could leave. "Please add these chips to the datapads." He produced a set of chips from his subspace. "After the debrief I have Earth and staffing-related news to share."

"Anything I need to know now?"

"I'd rather you focus on the mission debrief first."

Prowl nodded and left to do as asked while setting everything out at empty seats. When he finished he sat down to sneak a peek at Prime's datachip but the Special Ops group and Ratchet chose then to arrive.

Jazz was speaking to Bumblebee and Mirage was gracefully nodding along. Jazz sat down at the table and his two agents pulled wall-side chairs up to sit behind Jazz, the table lacking enough space to comfortably add them to the mix. Ratchet sat two chairs away from the trio, on Prowl's right.

The Head of Special Ops picked up his datapad. He comm'ed Prowl. ::How'd it go with Hide and Smokey?::

::With Hide it went well enough. He has some reservations but nothing that can't be rectified. Smokescreen and Bluestreak both came to my office. It didn't go well. I'll explain later.::

::Yay for the first, boo for the second. Yeah, we'll talk later. Got to mentally prepare myself this meeting.::

Another breem later everyone was sitting down: Jazz, Ratchet, Ironhide, Prime, Prowl, Red Alert, Perceptor, and the two agents. Although Perceptor wasn't an officer, he attended to represent his group. One of the staffing items was to either promote him (which Perceptor didn't want) or find another Science officer. Right now Ratchet was the official officer with Perceptor as acting officer.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Prowl started while sitting. "We're here to go over the debrief with Special Ops. Jazz, will you please start?"

"Yup. Bee and Mirage are here to answer any questions you have directly for them, but also so they know what's going on from our side.

"So to recap how this all started: us three and three more non-Earth agents went to northern Canada for training in freezing organic conditions. I headed it, Mirage and Bumblebee played Decepticons, and the three agents were to run drills. Barely after the second orn started one of the agents, Punch, lost his peds and fell down an icy ravine. I let him find his way out, only to have his almost stumble into a secret Decepticon base.

"Luckily the Decepticons thought it a rockslide. They were new ones, too. Never got their names. They referred to each other by insults, like Slag Eater and Tool Lover. Quality mechs. We counted at least five, but they were all acting as scouts with a home base. There could've been more that never made it back to base while we were watching. Looks like the Decepticons are also upping their force count.

"We tailed as many scouts as we could." Jazz left out the tailing mistakes his newer agents made, especially the one that concerned Jazz. "Not easy since they weren't sticking too well to patterns. From what we observed, best guess is they're scouting a landing site at a temp base. They had some of Soundwave's equipment but I never saw Wave.

"A pair of Decepticons found a temp base the third deca-orn. One left to tell the others, the other decided to drink to celebrate his usefulness. He overdrank and Mirage was able to take lead and mess with the Decepticon while cloaked, eventually getting him to step on a box and ruin everything. We saw destroyed bits of tools and a dataslug. Based on his freak out, we're pretty sure it's something that admitting fault would be a bad thing. He called his pal to say the temp site was no good. A couple of orns later they left, and then we left. Best we can tell they didn't find a new temp site, leaving because of something to do with that box."

Bumblebee, having been the smallest and repainted to match an icy forest color at the time, added, "I saw them trying to repair the box's contents, the two scouts. They convinced the team that the area wasn't any good because the tools weren't working right in the frozen ground. Unfortunately we never saw the tools used in any recognizable condition."

"Yeah," Jazz concurred and Mirage nodded. "The high-grade chugging fool talked about it taking at least a deca-orn to repair it because there was no way he's fessing up to his mistakes to Command. From that we concluded that there's likely at least a deca-orn before anything happens. Probably longer, but we'll need our troops to up surveillance."

Prowl leaned forward. "There's more to this than Jazz's mission, I believe. Before we discuss plans, I'd like to go over what I found. On your datapads are two reports: Jazz's debrief and WRKR-2010. Jazz has summarized his debrief, and now I'd like to turn your attention to the Wreckers' report."

Prowl had to fight himself to keep his arms down. He never realized until now how much he pointed. "The Wreckers are following at least one Decepticon they haven't been able to identify. There's some evidence that there's two, but in that case they're separating to do damage on multiple warfronts despite traveling together. Survivor accounts have variation of the Decepticon we know exists, but mostly the only consistency is white head fins and a multi-colored body."

Red Alert butted in when Prowl paused. "I see the concerns, but I don't see how that's tied into Jazz's mission. That sounds like a separate meeting topic. The security issues I can determine from Jazz's will be significant."

"I'm sure that's true… If you'll _permit_ me to continue, as far as the Wreckers can tell they aren't stealing anything. They managed to identify a general path direction and actually managed to get ahead of them. That's where they realized there was likely a second, when almost half of the team was killed. The other half ended up behind the first Decepticon when he skipped a base. He may have been tipped off.

"The reason why I suspect their report is tied into Jazz's is that I mapped out the likely possible paths and Earth is the highest possibility. Given what Jazz's team observed, that puts odds at almost 91% they're coming here."

Everyone's optics widen, except the knowing Jazz. Prime asked, "How long until they arrive?"

"They're slowing themselves down by taking many detours to attack us. I project at least four more deca-orns before their arrival, but easily five. If anything, we need to fortify the bases in their path. I suggest we use this meeting to discuss that fortification and how we want to monitor the Decepticon Command."

Prime nodded. "In that case, I should discuss now what's on my datachips. We can pool together all knowledge and work it from there. Earth has requested that we start upping our staff count now. As we're all aware, more Decepticon activity has been observed."

Prowl frowned. "That's too fast. We're still working off of preliminary lists, and combining that with the fortification of four to six bases will strip other bases of personnel instead of rotating them. I also still haven't found the appropriate personnel for the remaining Wreckers to vet."

[[New AI initiated action… AI Barricade recommendation over course of action: Rank personnel in preliminary list by use to the three major bases.]]

' _Double damn it_ ,' Prowl groaned. ' _I suppose another trip to Ratchet is in order._ '

[[Barricade recommends against visiting Ratchet.]]

"I know," Prime replied. "Given that more Decepticon activity has been observed, new Decepticons have been spotted, and now that we have a dangerous threat on their way, I cannot see pushing back. We'll need to take that preliminary list and divide it as best as we're able across three bases. We'll come up with a secondary list of Autobots we can temporarily relocated for any other bases, should we be unable to stop the threat at the first two."

Ratchet groused, "Guess we're going to be busy. Let's get cracking."

Prime held onto Mirage and Bumblebee a little longer for minor questioning before excusing them. Nearly two joors later they had their assignments and staffing list finalized for an immediate personnel shuffle. The Autobots would be moved around immediately, with Prime and Prowl finalizing the orders.

When they were wrapping up, Prowl received another comm. from Jazz. ::Why has Hide been giving me suspicious glances whenever I talk to you?::

::Perhaps he thinks you're holding back regarding mission details?::

::He's never accused me of holding back ever, past a few personal details. Oh sweet Primus, what did you say when you convinced him to consider moving?!::

::Nothing about us.::

::We are _so_ talking about this later, either before or after your repaint.::

::We should forego that,:: Prowl replied. ::You have more than enough work now.::

::I'll probably be really late to getting off-duty, but I bet I can still beat you to my quarters.::

::Of course you can. I don't have your code.::

::First to their own quarters wins, then.::

::I do not consent to this type of race.::

::Too bad,:: Jazz teased.

Prime announced, "We have our lists and assignments. Everyone's dismissed."

::Excuse me, I need to talk to Ratchet,:: Prowl said in dismissal, closing the line. To Ratchet he comm'ed, ::Ratchet, if you would speak to me in Medbay at the end of the primary shift?::

::Why? What happened now?::

::The tac-set appears to have reversed everything you did. It's referring to itself as Barricade again.::

::Primus frag it. I told you we needed to let the purge programs run longer. Fine, fine. Be on time.::

Prowl had every intent to be on time, using it as a necessary break in his own workload. As he neared that time, and just after he handed off explained work to Trailbreaker, he started thinking about what he'd do during that necessary break. Last time he thought about Jazz. Perhaps he should talk to Jazz this time?

He reopened his commlink to ping Jazz. After several kliks the mech answered. ::What's up?::

::I have a medical appoint after my shift with Ratchet. I'm planning to use it as a break. He needs to turn off my tac-set and run a purge program because some code appears to have inappropriately mutated again. I was wondering if you'd also talk it as a break and visit me so we can discuss matters?:: Why did his voice sound so weak and wavering?

[[Barricade – ]]

[[No.]]

::Yeah, that sounds like a good plan!:: Jazz answered back. ::I'll find a way to make that work. Promise.::

::I will comm. you when Ratchet's ready to put me in stasis to turn it off. That should give you enough time.::

::See ya then.::

Time passed fast enough that Prowl wrapped up his work, downloaded plenty of reports to a datapad, and cleaned his office quickly to leave for Ratchet.

Ratchet greeted him with a stern face. "So am I going to get the full ten breems this time?"

"Yes, since five had such a small window of effectiveness."

"No slag. Come on, let's get this started." Ratchet motioned to be followed.

::Jazz?:: Prowl pinged

Several long kliks went by. ::Prowl? Is it time already?::

::Yes?::

::Oh mech, I'm sorry. I can't make it.:: Jazz almost mumbled, having to do this to Prowl. ::I was following up with Punch and something's happened. It's nothing that needs an emergency meeting, but I have to handle this now. I'm really sorry.::

::It's alright,:: Prowl accepted. He wasn't pleased with Jazz being the one too busy in the office for a change, but there was nothing to be done.

::I swear I'll comm. you once it's dealt with. I think I'll still be able to do our repaint plans, but I might be later than I thought.::

::I should've accepted that race, then. I'd have won.::

Jazz laughed. ::Yeah, I suppose. See you later, okay?::

::Alright.::

When Prowl closed the line he noticed the back wall of Medbay. "You still haven't sent in your request on the Medbay changes."

"Oops. I'll have Aid do it."

"Please do so, or for our one-on-one meeting I'll be helping you submit it."

"Way to kill what wee little fun to be had," Ratchet sarcastically replied. "Hop up. Is there anything you want me to do before I put you into stasis?"

Prowl thought about the offer carefully. If Jazz couldn't meet him, could he work with something else? "Please call my brothers and tell them to meet me here. I'd like to discuss a family issue."


	9. Chapter 9

"Before you step into my office, we need to discuss those scratches on your arms. They're almost gouges. What happened?"

Prowl seized up at Ratchet's words greeting him once he stood up, immediately forgetting he couldn't ask his tac-set to help him get out of this one. He was so close to getting away with it.

It took him almost too long to respond. "I dropped my datapads and when I tried catching them, the corners scratched me. A problem with carrying an armful of datapads."

"That's some _really poor luck_ for datapads to do that. Why'd you drop the datapads?"

"… Jazz startled me. It's why he owes me a repaint." Jazz had mentioned not hiding that he'd be repainting Prowl, and pretending to volunteer the information might satisfy the snooping medic to not feel the need to ask further questions, or try to fix the fairly-minor damage.

"What was he doing?" Ratchet's optic ridges were cocked, one up, one down.

"Ah, being energetic. You know how he is sometimes after a mission."

Now Ratchet's optics were narrowed. "Don't want to really answer me?"

"I'd rather not get him into trouble."

" _Riiight_ … because that's normal of you. Tac-set on or not. What are you hiding?"

"Nothing," Prowl automatically defended before belatedly catching the hole in his argument. "I simply do not wish to disclose what Jazz was doing right before he repaints me, least I end up with a strange color between my doorwings."

Ratchet was silent, studying Prowl. Before he could study for long he relented. "Sounds personal, but I'll have to let you go for now. Your brothers are on their way, so if you want to talk to them privately you better go into my office now."

Prowl moved quickly, stepping inside Ratchet's office only to linger at the doorway. He needed to figure out how to approach the situation on his own. His instincts told him to approach it from behind Ratchet's desk. His comfort zone was behind a desk, and if not that, then a chair and a datapad. Those approaches wouldn't work, given the last go-around he had with his brothers and him evidently lacking approachability.

Ratchet's office didn't have an actual sitting area separate from his desk, but there was just enough space by some cabinets to move the chairs around. Prowl grabbed Ratchet's chair and moved it, trying to find a spot that didn't look to awkward or closed off.

His problem with the sitting arrangement was that every spot not behind a desk looked awkward or wrong to him. Knowing they were on their way, he pushed his chair as far into the corner as possible and then moved the next two chairs away from the desk but not so close to Ratchet's chair they'd feel each other's vents.

Prowl sat down and looked at the door, feeling exposed. His doorwings twitched against the chair's doorwing-incompatible back. He looked down at his hands. What does a mech do with their hands without a desk or a datapad? He folded them in his lap, only to have flashbacks of Enforcer training orientations. He placed his arms on the armrests but he wasn't sure if it looked approachable. He crossed and uncrossed his arms until he heard a knock and ended up dropping his arms in his laps, leaving them loosely resting.

"Hi?" Bluestreak asked as he entered, looking nervous. "Prowl, you okay? Ratchet wasn't giving anything away and I know he usually doesn't if it's not life-and-death, but then I wasn't sure why he was comm'ing us." He stepped inside enough for Smokescreen to peer around Bluestreak as he followed. "But you look okay so you're okay, right?"

"I'm fine. My tac-set is completely offline. Please sit," Prowl pointed to the chairs with an open, upturned hand. Deliberate openness wasn't _exactly_ a new challenge, but not one he'd grown used to undergoing.

"Has something gone wrong?" Bluestreak asked, immediately worrying. He sat in a chair but leaned as close as he could to Prowl. Smokescreen looked alarm as well, sitting halfway on edge of his chair.

"There's been some irregularities of late," Prowl carefully answer, taking measures to ensure Bluestreak didn't worry any more than what he was prone to doing. "It's nothing for your concern because Ratchet's addressing it. My hope was that perhaps we could talk while we wait the next seven breems before it's turned back on."

"Talk about what?"

"What we attempted to talk about back in my office."

Smokescreen accused, "You said I didn't have to do that if I agreed to take the work."

"I agreed to not talking about it then. Now that my tac-set is off and I cannot work, I thought we might try again. What's happened between you two?"

Smokescreen shrugged irritably. "Dunno why the tac-set being off matters that much, but it's nothing you need to know."

Bluestreak chewed his lip and shifted positions, torn between not wanting to disclose what was bothering him, and wanting to see how much of a difference brotherly actions were by Prowl with his tac-set off. He remembered how Prowl went along with more family time without it. Or at least as much family time as Smokescreen allowed, and that was the problem.

His decision was made. "Smokescreen's gambling has gotten way worse! Like intolerably worse!"

"I don't have a gambling problem!"

"Yes you do! Even the Twins think so," Bluestreak snapped.

"The Twins _oh-so_ do _not_ think I have a gambling problem _,"_ Smokescreen scoffed. "They're from Kaon. They know what gambling problems are, with mechs losing limbs and livelihoods."

"Exactly!" Bluestreak flung his arms, suddenly letting the dam of his feelings release its gates. "They know what gambling problems look like, they've seen it go from something friendly to something deadly. They've seen it plenty in all forms and all states, and they're the ones who pointed it out to me! And you know why they told me? Because I was complaining about how I noticed how you kept flaking out on me and Prowl when he was healing! How you stayed up late gambling when he was still not cleared medically safe to recharge alone.

"Why do you think they let you and your overcharge aft hang around them while they were working on prepping for demolitions? Problem was they were waiting on me to fetch you, but Hide beat me to it."

"Are you claiming that they're saying I –an Autobot who's never gambled with weapons, medicine, critical energon, or lives – have a gambling problem? Are you sure you aren't over imagining it? Because I'm sure you are."

Prowl tried stopping the conversation from degrading further. "I - "

"Over imagining it? Over freaking _imagining it_! Did I imagine the package I had to drop off because you got yourself tossed into the brig and would miss the deadline? I don't even know what I was dropping off. Maybe I was dropping off something serious, because all I knew was you had a package that absolutely had to go out and _something something-something_ - _slurred-something_ was why you were drinking to calm your nerves."

Prowl's wide optics shifted back and forth. "When did this conversation happen? Before Ironhide's appearance or after?"

"Geez, you need to relax," Smokescreen snapped back at Bluestreak, not even hearing Prowl. "It was small collateral for an upcoming major sports game. Mining tool scraps I pocketed from a game with a Tarnish 'Bot. The package had to be delivered because we're so many time zones away from the game, and international gambling usually has a bit of a lead time."

"For what? What's the bet, and what could possibly drive you to drink over a game where supposedly the risk is having less clutter in your quarters?"

"I wasn't drinking over the game bet!" Smokescreen angrily blurted out. "I've been gambling for far too long to have to drink away any low losses I _might_ have."

"Yeah, yeah, you've been gambling since bootcamp for active duty in hot zones. I've heard the stories. I went to camp after you."

"Try again! I've been gambling since I was a mechling. How do you think our family made ends meet when we found out about Prowl?" As soon as their cousin's name left his vocalizer Smokescreen came to a sudden stop.

Prowl's optics couldn't get any wider. "What do I have to do with this?"

"Nothing. Look, I'm sorry I said something. I was just lashing out," Smokescreen backtracked. "Blue and I came here because we were worried about you. Now we've seen your fine, I promise you that nothing bad was going on earlier. I was drinking because of other things that I don't want to talk about, and everyone is blowing up this 'Smokey has a gambling problem' thing out of proportion. It's not a problem if you almost always win and never lose anything important."

Prowl rubbed his face, now hurting from extended confused staring. "That is far more information that I expected, and I'm not sure how much of it fits into my limited expectations of the outcome of this conversation, let alone how to process it," he confessed, seeing no real answer to Smokescreen's reply.

Smokescreen shrugged. "Look at the bright side: no worries about tac-set crashes."

"The tac-set and I are more robust than that. Usually."

Bluestreak kept anxiously glancing between the two before finally asking, "This is killing me. What's Prowl's got to do with you starting a lifelong gambling problem?"

"Argh! Am I getting out of this? I said I was sorry. That I was just lashing out."

"No," Prowl and Bluestreak replied, the youngest more vehemently than the older one.

"Fine, but don't get mad or hurt over this. Okay? You know how when our creators found out about Prowl and his dead creators, we brought him home immediately. For a little while our creators were fine because they were granted emergency power over Prowl's creators' estate. But our creators had originally only planned on two healthy creations, so a third youngling with health problems was unexpected. But we all loved Prowl and worked with him, right? It's just his creator's money and liquidated assets went to funeral arrangements, paying off their debts, Prowl's medical bills, and then some of his schooling for special youths.

"At that point the money ran out, and our creators' were trying to regulate normal living costs with balancing Prowl's remaining specialty schooling costs, my schooling, and even some of Blue's schooling. I got what work I could as a mechling, but that wasn't much. So I learned how to gamble. Turned out I had a good enough teacher and enough of a knack for it to pay for my own schooling and send some back that our creators didn't have to always work instead of being a part of Blue's life."

Smokescreen hunched over and wrapped his arms around his torso. "See, I don't have a gambling problem? There's gambling and then there's _gambling_ , as in never stopping gambling. I can control it. I have been controlling it for a long time now."

Bluestreak and Prowl looked at each other with their own mixed feelings. For Bluestreak, knowing that his sparklinghood was partly paid by Smokescreen's gambling warred with his anger over Smoke missing family events, or Blue having to do a package drop-off because his gambling had gotten so bad even the Twins were worried. Prowl's inner thoughts were torn between his schooling costs being also paid by Smokescreen's gambling and that Smokescreen had easily gambled away Prowl's personal information during Prowl's troubled times.

For over a breem no one spoke. Finally Prowl managed to find some words. "I didn't realize what a burden it put on you to care for our family, particularly my addition."

Smokescreen's posture straightened and his arms loosened. "That wasn't what I was getting at. You drive me up the wall more times than not, but I love you Prowl. Technically being cousins be damned, you're my brother. If I had to go back and do it over again, I'd do it again every time."

Bluestreak murmured, "But that's kind of the problem, isn't it?"

Smokescreen cycled his vents slowly. "I don't know. Maybe, but likely not. No, most likely not. You can't tell me I have a problem when it almost always comes out right."

"But you're missing family things now," Bluestreak gently reminded him, his tone must softer now that his anger was replaced by guilt. "You were there less and less for Prowl when he was sick."

Smokescreen groaned, unwrapping his arms to rub his temples. "How did this go from 'Prowl's in Medbay' to an intervention?"

Prowl offered only a small helpless shrug. "I wanted to solve my brothers' problem so there wasn't so much tension. How this happened I don't know, and I have no idea how to categorize this."

Smokescreen barked a short laugh. "You would try to categorize this, even with your tac-set off. How about we just say it's the 'rollercoaster of family problems' and call it good? It's not like we've got the blandest family. I promise to leave Bluestreak out of my bets, and Prowl I promise to not do stupid things like get drunk to the point I have to be collected by an officer."

Prowl realized they still hadn't gotten to solving why Smokescreen was drunk when he was by the twins. He'd respect his brother's request to let him keep the cause to himself, for now. Clearly there was at least one more pressing matter. "Smokescreen, why are you gambling with this particular bet? I know you have other bets around the base that I pretend not to notice. Don't protest their existence, we both know I give you some leeway on the 'morale boost' bets. How does this bet fit into those?"

That question stumped Smokescreen. This had always been a sticky point between the pair and the biggest reason they didn't hang out. Prowl disclosing that he gave leeway was unmistakably new.

While Smokescreen soundlessly opened his mouth a few times Prowl received a comm. from Ratchet. ::Ready? Ten breems have passed::

::Alas, I am not. I wish I was, but our discussion has taken a turn I never anticipated. While I'm loathed to keep my tac-set off, I think this warrants doing so.::

::Whoa, never thought I'd hear you say that. You sure are full of surprises of late. Do you need any help? Is everyone okay?::

::No one needs medical intervention, thank you. I need to focus on my in-person conversation. I'll let you know ASAP once I'm free to turn back on my tac-set.::

Smokescreen finally had an answer. "Having Earth money is never a bad thing. What if we had to expedite something? That costs extra money."

"Were you going to donate the money to our financial reserves?"

"Not immediately. Maybe not ever, if nothing happened," he admitted.

"When's the next new bet?" For all of the "do not go Enforcer" advice from Jazz, his Enforcer training did teach him a few tricks on handling addicts. He only wished he wasn't just now noticing it. The lack of being able to read body language was a bit of problem, he admitted to himself.

"What makes you think there's a next bet? Besides the ones around base that fall under 'morale boosters.'"

"At this point I suspect there's always another bet, beyond the established ones on base."

Smokescreen's optics dropped to his lap. "I haven't given the collateral yet. I can skip it."

Bluestreak didn't believe him, but he did his best to not directly or rudely call him out on it. "How are you going to skip it? There's probably a grace period of few Earth days to offer something, right?"

"Smokescreen, look at me," Prowl firmly requested. When Smokescreen's optics lifted up Prowl continued. "What non-gambling activities would you like to do? I know we're all busy, but perhaps when you have free time one of us can be with you, doing something else you want."

Smokescreen stared into Prowl's optics. He couldn't see beyond the outside lens, but there was a sort of _feel_ to his optics that wasn't there when his tac-set was powered on. There was this softer sense to those optics, less sharp edges or icy focused glow in every look. The look of a genuine mech and not a walking advance computer. It warmed his spark to hear his brother say words he'd literally never heard since their youth. "Racing. High-grade drinking games."

"I can't simply drink high-grade, but I'll race with you out in the desert. Tomorrow, after our shifts?" A part of Prowl didn't want to offer. He was already stretched thin, but he couldn't very well ignore something like this. He was hoping Jazz would understand. Perhaps Jazz could use the time to spend it with Blaster or other friends.

"Yeah, and I'm not that busy so I can join you," Bluestreak chipped into the conversation. "Plus since I'm not that busy you call me anytime, anywhere, no matter what. I'm there, even if I'm restricted to just comm's. Which is pretty rare, but I have to say it, 'cause snipers can't always promise to be there. Sometimes not even on comm's, but I swear one of us will tell you if that happens. You understand, right?"

"Yes, I understand, Blue," Smokescreen grinned. "I've had plenty of comm. conversations with you about what assignments you don't like. I bet so has Prowl."

"Yes, I have."

"Oh yeah," Bluestreak blushed. "So we're okay for now? I can take Smokey back with me and maybe we can hang with Sides and Sunny?"

"I'm alright with that," Prowl answered.

"Sure," Smokescreen reluctantly agreed. "I'm betting – sorry, guessing – that you aren't going to let me watch a game later?"

"Nope."

The diversionary tactician groaned. "I'm going to be climbing the walls."

"That's kind of why I want the twins there. Hey, Prowl's smiling!"

Prowl snapped his helm back at the unexpectedly sudden transition to him. "Am I not allowed to?"

"Of course you are! I just wasn't expecting it, since you don't ever do it so honestly."

"I'm simply pleased that this worked out better than last time I tried breeching the conversation."

Bluestreak beamed at the not-exactly-a-compliment but somehow felt like one. "Do you need to see Ratchet now?"

"Yes," he confirmed, not telling them he wanted to see Ratchet over two breems ago.

"Okay, well we're off. Be seeing you after tomorrow's shift!"


	10. Chapter 10

Onlining after his tac-set was restarted was similarly as odd as the first time. There was one major difference: this time he felt accomplished, even refreshed. He did something on his own, without the AI prompting him, or at least trying to prompt him. Granted, it started off with yelling and some flailing limbs, but his brothers calmed down and he even had a solution to the family problems.

' _Perhaps I should consider this more often for personal problems_ ,' he mused before trying to quickly banish that thought. It didn't disappear, as it lead him back to how his tac-set wanted him to incapacitate Jazz during his nightmare. ' _The Decepticons can attack anytime,_ ' he argued with himself.

There was no denying that the Decepticons would not be doing anything for at least a deca-orn. He theoretically could do this once an orn without consequence, up to the earliest date the Decepticons might try something. Besides, the tac-set would have to be on when he was recharging with Jazz, so it might not make a difference anyways. Not unless there was a safe, non-hackable way to turn it off and on for him, without causing problems.

Why was he even entertaining this? Being able to better listen to his spark would never be on equal footing as providing the resources of a mobile battle tac-set.

"Feeling better?" Ratchet asked.

"Yes, much."

"Good. Hopefully it'll feel more like when we repaired your processor of that emotions damage."

Prowl gritted his dentae, fighting hard to not show Ratchet what his thoughts were on that, and that he didn't need the reminder. "I feel better," he repeated. "Please excuse me; I have work to do."

"Shocking. See you later. Have fun with your personal time."

Prowl made it back to his quarters, opting to skip the Coff-E for now so he didn't taste like sludge. Knowing Jazz, if Prowl was giving him his time, then Jazz would put an amorous touch to it since it was still close enough to the mission for the Polyhexian's heightened needs.

Prowl worked until late before there was a ping to his commlink. ::Come on over. Remember, hallway is safe because this is for painting with privacy. Most get that.::

::Understood. Wrapping up my datapads now.::

::Okay. You better not bring any over here! Do so and I'll paint it, screen included.::

::But… fine.::

Prowl stored and saved all his data and progress, and then trekked passed Ironhide's closed door to Jazz's. The door opened and Prowl stepped inside. "How's the agent?" Prowl greeted.

"Fine enough. I've got the situation handled for now," Jazz paused to yawn, "and monitoring systems set up should something happen. Plus Communications know to comm. me if anything comes in. I told them _anything_."

"So your time is split between here and work? What a strange sense; I'm not used to sharing your with your work like this."

"Hey, mech, now it's your turn to know what I feel when you work late. I got the paint equipment set up in the washracks but I didn't bother dragging the TV or any other entertainment. You'll just have to settle for me."

"Your entertainment value alone is hardly settling."

Jazz half-smiled, his energy having depleted faster than he anticipated due to all the work items, considering he lost significant useful recharge. He promised to make time for this repainting and he strongly intended to follow through. "Time to strip, Prowler!"

Prowl stepped into the washrack, dreading the worst part of a new paint job, or at least tied with small detailing for that title. "You aren't planning to do that to my chevron and doorwings, are you?"

"Yes I am. When I comm.'ed Sunny and asked him what he suggested, he got a tad too excited. Excited for him, anyways." Jazz tapped a close bag. "I got all the brushes and strippers and fixin's for Praxian detailing and sensitive spots here. Apparently I'm not the only one who's noticed your mismatching touchup paint. Now get in my shower."

Prowl grumbled as he did as told. Jazz hooked up the main stripping brush pad to a paint chip collector, a bag attached on the opposite end. "Okie dokie, here we go."

Jazz made quick work of all the large-to-medium non-sensitive parts. When he was switching tools for the doorwings he spoke to the mostly-stripped mech, "Almost forgot to ask. What did you say to Hide?"

"I told him that it would benefit anyone working in this corridor to have a storage space and that he would benefit the most from the move due to his socializing and responsibilities."

"Okay, so far nothing strange," Jazz murmured as he started up the quiet and soft strip pad for the doorwings. Prowl automatically brought all sensors down to near zero sensitivity. "Keep going."

"He mentioned being surprised that I was pushing it through so quickly. I explained to him that I didn't want to leave him or our administrative process in limbo."

"And what he'd say?"

"He accepted it, all around. He did ask me if I had more to say, but I said no."

Jazz turned off the pad. "What _exactly_ did he say?"

"He said 'if that's all you got to say about me moving.'"

" _How_ did he say it?"

"He said it like how Ironhide normally asks such questions? I fail to see what you're worried about."

"Did his optics do something funny? Did his voice change inflection? Did he do something abnormal?"

"You know I often don't notice those things so well," Prowl chastised. "He left the office slower, watching me a little longer. I assumed he was a bit perplexed about me doing his paperwork so fast, as he had questioned."

Jazz groaned. "So many flaws in your assumption. Please tell me Hide is the only one you've had this kind of conversation with, like you didn't tell anyone else about the move."

"Just Prime, but briefly. That reminds me, Ratchet saw my scratches."

Jazz grimaced, both at the reminder of the harm he'd done to Prowl and the possibilities of Ratchet noticing damage. "I'm almost loathed to ask, but what did the two of you say?"

"I told him it was caused by falling datapads. He called it poor luck."

"What happened next?"

"I tried to satisfy his curiosity and any dissuade any thoughts on repairs. I said you owned me a repaint, and then when he asked why you owned me a repaint I said you caused me to drop the datapads."

Jazz facepalmed with one freed hand. His voice was almost strained when he asked, "What happened next?"

"I'm not really sure. Ratchet became quiet and stared at me. Much like how Ironhide stared at me, now that I think about it. Plus he kept mentioning privacy. Am I doing something wrong?"

"I almost can't handle that question. I don't even know where to start. Wait, maybe I do. I got an idea." Jazz set down the tool. "I was going to hold off until I was further along to give you something, but I think I should give it to you now and just tinker as I can. Wait here."

Jazz returned in less than a breem, holding a box. "I made you a present. Open it."

Prowl took the box and carefully opened the lid. "A yellow visor?" Unlike Jazz's, this one actually had a cutout for a standard-size nose, like Prowl's.

"Yeah. It occurred to me when we were pre-mission-debriefing the other orn that you could use some help reading others. Then I thought you should probably just have an interpreter. Put it on."

"I have no hookup points."

"I know, which is why you have to recharge it when you recharge. It works independently of your systems, unlike mine."

Prowl obliged, but spoke with some confused concern. "It's yellow. I don't have any yellow paint."

"No, but your paint job and optics basically limit you to matching me or matching a Decepticon. So you get one of my 'blank' spares, and I thought yellow would go better than emerald green. I've got clear but that would be weird because everyone could see what the visor is doing and what it does… well, test it out to see what I mean."

Prowl pushed it around on his still-painted face until it sat comfortably on his nose and by his helm. "Now what?"

Jazz narrowed one optic, turned his helm slightly, and smirked. This was better than answering.

Suddenly the optic movement, helm profile change, and downward mouth movement were highlighted on Prowl's visor. Across the bottom flashed "Possible emotions: smug satisfaction, coy, pleasure."

Prowl was taken aback by it. "What is this?"

"It's your emotions reader for helping you understand others! Or it's your emotions interpreter, depending how you use it." Jazz clapped his hands and smiled.

The visor highlighted the movements and popped up a small list of content, pleasure, or enthusiasm. Prowl commented, "It's not entirely exact."

"It's a work-in-progress that I'm giving you way earlier than I was planning. As it is, I only did slight modifications from the downloaded physiatrist's database on watching for emotional responses to therapy. It'll give you the most likely database hits, so it'll probably return more than one. I added the framework for my visors' adaptive learning coding."

"That's really thoughtful and resourceful, thank you, but I don't think I can wear a visor around base." Prowl pulled it off. "Not without some serious questioning and suspicion."

"Already thought of that. Tell people it's tactical. Special Ops tactical that I'm giving you to better grasp our operations from an agent's POV. No one's going to argue with you upping your tact game, and mechs know I have that kind of personality to push Ops training on another department affecting my own."

"I'm still not sure this will work."

"Just try it for me, okay? Be my beta-tester."

"Isn't this more like alpha-testing, given I'm the target audience of one?"

"No, because I'm making it and I did try it. I'm alpha, you're beta. Now get your _beta_ in the show so we can keep working."

"What about Ironhide?"

"I'll deal with him. Somehow. Plus Ratchet, somehow. You just focus on trying out that visor tomorrow." Jazz gently took it from Prowl's hand and placed it back in the box for safekeeping.

Considering the effort time and the relatively-low energy both had, Jazz managed to completely strip Prowl of all paint in record time without hurting the mech once. Jazz asked, "So, blacks, whites, greys, and red where they were before?"

"Yes. I have no desire to change my paint job."

"Not even, say, with yellow painted decals? Like a cop?"

Jazz pinged Prowl with some pictures. "When I was finishing up I thought about your point that yellow doesn't really belong. I ran an image search and came back with some human cop car paint decals."

"I can't have any human symbols I'm not sanctioned by their government to have."

"So no Sherriff stars or whatever. What about Cybertronian? I remember little stem-less arrow things Iacon Enforcer had. Did Praxian Enforcers have them? Don't see them on the human photos so they can't mean anything government-regulated here."

Prowl considered Jazz's points, as well as the efforts Jazz put into gifting him an object for his benefit. "In Praxus it depended on criteria I never opted to see if I qualified. While you prepare, I'll consider it and the criteria more carefully."

"Awesome," Jazz grinned. He mixed all colors, keeping red in a smaller paint pot. He pinged the latest shift in paint supplies to bring him a small yellow pot, just in case.

Halfway through, when the pot was dropped off, Prowl finally gave an answer. "I'll allow the yellow Enforcer symbols." He wasn't sure if it was smart or not to go with something from his ruined home, but there was a rush of memories he didn't want to push aside. Before Jazz could comment, he murmured allowed the new thought, "Still, who knows how this will affect others, an officer wearing pre-war markings?"

"If for the best, then you should totally positively affect 'em; if for the worst, then to Pit with them and their problems. Send me photos of the specific Praxian Enforcer symbols."

"The stemless arrows are fine." Still, he pinged Jazz photos of the decals mounted on Enforcer shoulders.

Jazz worked swiftly for the smaller areas, without detailing the yellow. Painting the chevron had Prowl's face twitching but he said nothing. Jazz suspected it was ticklish under the brush but he wasn't about to irk Prowl by asking if he was losing to a tickling sensation.

"Okay, so a pair of shoulder-wide stem-less downward arrows on each shoulder?" He asked, holding a brush and a straight flat stick for painting the outlines.

"Let's not do the full shoulder width. Maybe half, or less, to keep it somewhat subtle and a little less like our pre-war world."

Jazz drew an outline of one small arrow, near the top of Prowl's shoulder and pointing downward. "These should totally be pointing to something. Like those bars or grills new cars have, or something. Ooh! You should get handle bars on your shoulders!"

"Why?"

"Why not? Plus then It'll be easier to do this," Jazz suddenly straightened his full height to sneak a kiss to Prowl's watchful bowed helm. "But without having to wait until you're looking down to sneak attack you like that."

"I'll… consider it." Littler flurries of energy in his spark, timed to Jazz's actions and words, said "do it." The idea of frame changes for non-work related reasons was unquantifiable and he didn't like that, but he didn't like the idea of not considering it, either. Life had far too many questions these orns.

The longest part of the repaint and bane of Jazz's tired focus was making sure the arrows lined up perfectly across the two shoulders, even with the right tools. When the last stroke colored in the last arrow, Jazz happily declared, "Ta da! You're now completely painted… except for your interfacing equipment," he added with a smirk.

"No. Absolutely not. I'm not sitting through that right now."

"Obviously. You aren't supposed to _sit_ through it. At all."

Prowl supplied only a very pointed glare. "I don't need it and I'm too tired to go through that," he countered, opting for the easy out.

Jazz sighed, "Yeah, me too. Except now I'm kind of too turned on to recharge. Maybe a quickie, hmmm?"

"I don't think that would be wise with our energy levels."

"I didn't say a hard and fast quickie. Hardlines are totally back on the plate now. Help me put this stuff away, because regardless what happens we have to do that."

Never let it be that Jazz couldn't formulate subtle plans for getting what he wanted. The two cleaned the equipment, with only a few "slips" by Jazz. One of those slips somehow managed to get drops of paint on his aft. "Oops," Jazz said demurely, slowly cleaning it off with his hips cocked to the side.

Prowl figured out exactly what Jazz was doing with his exaggerated movements but found himself in a similar situation as Jazz of a building charge before he could stop it. He pretended not to notice.

His efforts to not react were noticed and served to encourage Jazz. The saboteur kept finding ways to carefully pick items off the floor in inappropriate poses, and then arching his back when coming back up.

With everything packed, Jazz licked his lips and said in a slow, low voice, " _Aaahhhhh_ , everything's packed. Managed to _stuff_ everything."

To the Pit with it; Jazz wasn't the only one capable of surprises. Prowl took a deep in-vent and moved before his nerves could stop him. He grabbed Jazz tightly, kissing him borderline hard on the lips while pushing him towards the sink.

Jazz's surprise that Prowlinitiated ended when he rewarded it with wrapping one leg around Prowl's waist.


End file.
